


dust out the demons inside

by hemakeshimstrongx



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arguing, But also, Crying, Drinking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry works at like... a nonprofit, Heart-to-Heart, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Lawyer Louis, M/M, No Smut, Recreational Drug Use, SO, harry is louis' baby, i guess, that's like it idk if you think i should tag something please don't hesitate to tell me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: harry is spiraling. louis is the only one who can make it stop.title from elton john's 'i guess that's why they call it the blues'.trigger warning: alcoholism/alcohol abuse.





	dust out the demons inside

**Author's Note:**

> major trigger warning for this !! it's entirely based around harry being addicted to alcohol/drinking. this was supposed to be for a fic exchange (wherein i got a prompt and this was the prompt) that never lifted off and i never heard anything else about it. but i like the fic and i spent a lot of time on it so... here you go.   
> there's songs before certain parts because i love music and these songs really shaped my work so.. listen to them if you please. in order of appearance:   
> \- homesick, dua lipa   
> \- roll it on home, john mayer   
> \- sense of home, harrison storm   
> \- come home, baynk & shallou  
> \- where he makes his home, jason polley  
> \- home, one direction  
> \- the story, brandi carlile   
> \- dear one, mary lambert

homesick - dua lipa **  
** **_i’m running and i’m crawling, fighting for you._ **

Louis waits up for as long as he can, but he’s only human and his body  _ needs  _ sleep, no matter how much Louis tries to fight it. He shoots Zayn a text, saying that he’s going to bed but Harry still isn’t home. Louis silences his phone and puts it facedown on the nightstand before he can see Zayn’s reply. 

He tosses and turns, and even though his body cries out for sleep, his brain just won’t let it happen. The door opens and shuts before Louis’ even fallen asleep, the slam of Harry’s shoes hitting the floor echoing in the quiet flat. 

“Lou?” Harry grumbles, nudging the bedroom door open. “‘m home.” 

Louis turns his back to the door, already holding back tears. “You said you’d be home early today.” 

“I thought so, but we got caught up working on this campaign and then—then Simon bought drinks.”

“Did you spike your coffee before you left for work? Were you drunk while you were at the office? Simon know you were set before he brought you out?” Louis asks, purposely throwing rapid-fire accusations in hopes that Harry picks up on the coldness in his voice even though he knows, deep down, that he probably won’t. 

“What makes you think I did that?” Harry asks, climbing into bed beside him. “C’I put my head on your chest?” 

“No, I need space, H.” Louis whispers. “And am I wrong for assuming that? Sleep it off, Harry.”

And then Harry doesn’t reply. He starts snoring a few minutes later, and Louis forces himself out of bed. He grabs his phone from the nightstand and goes back to the living room, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch before sitting down and dialing Anne’s number. 

“He’s home?” she asks on an exhale, like she was holding her breath waiting for Louis to call. 

“Yeah. He was drunk, no surprise there,” Louis laughs, but it’s shallow and cold and forced. A lot of the things Louis does nowadays are all three of those things. 

“Oh, Harry,  _ Harry.” _ Anne croons. Louis knows that she’s probably crying already; they almost always cry to each other over the phone when they talk about Harry. “Did you talk to him?” 

“Not really. I don’t… I can’t talk to him when he’s like that.” Louis admits, picking a piece of lint off the blanket. “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t take much more of this. I think he’s making himself fucking Irish coffees before he goes to work and then going out for drinks after work and he missed Lottie’s early birthday celebration last weekend because he was too hungover to make the drive with me and I just…” Louis trails off, sighing. 

“We’ve just got to talk to him. Something has to get through to him.” 

“I don’t know what will. He never hears any of it.” Louis shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes and trying to will the tears back into their ducts. “I’m sorry, I wish there was something more I could do.” 

“You’re doing all you can. You have a job and you just lost your mum in December—” 

“And _you_ just lost Robin last month,” Louis says pointedly. “We both have a lot of shit going on and this just adds to it. And I think it might be his way of coping with everything, but still. There’s… a line that he’s in danger of crossing.”

Anne sniffles, and Louis hears her audibly swallow like she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s crying from Louis. “You should get some rest, Lou. Harry’s gonna need you in the morning. Try to get him to call me in the morning if you can, okay?” 

Louis nods and tells her that he’ll try his best, even though Harry almost never does call her. Tomorrow is Saturday, Harry and Louis are both off from work, and they’ll either spend the day yelling at each other or not speaking at all. Louis falls asleep on the couch and wakes up in the morning to pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. 

“Shit, sorry,” Harry apologizes immediately upon seeing Louis sit up. “I was going to make breakfast. But these dishes are impossible to get out and, now that I think about it, I don’t even think there’s anything to make.”

“It’s alright. I had to wake up anyway.” Louis replies, standing up and cracking his back. “Did you start a pot of coffee?” 

Harry shakes his head, gesturing toward the stove. “Kettle’s on for tea. I think there’s, like, donuts or something if you’re hungry for breakfast.” 

“No, I’m alright. Listen, I talked to your mum last night, she wants you to give her a call.” Louis says, leaning against the counter. “You should probably talk to her. She’s having a hard time with Robin. You know, on top of my mum and all.” 

Harry slams the cupboard a bit too roughly, making Louis jump, and sighs. “She always wants me to call her,” he grumbles, turning the stove off just before the kettle starts to whine. 

“Are you drunk already?”

_“ No.” _ Harry says firmly, turning around to face him. Harry’s eyes are tired and he just  _ looks  _ hungover, Louis doesn’t need to hear anything about his current state to know that Harry’s got a hangover. “I’m not a fucking alcoholic, I don’t know why you and my fucking  _ mum  _ are so in cahoots about it.” 

“Harry, you have to admit there’s… something isn’t right.” Louis tries to stay calm, always does, but he knows but it rarely works. 

“I don’t need you to, like, hover over me, Louis. Please, just back off. We have to go out with the guys tonight and I don’t want to be fighting when we do,” Harry pleads. “We’ll just pregame here before and then we’ll take a cab over and meet them there and we’ll dance and suck each other off in the bathroom and come home.”

Louis sighs and nods, his imaginary white flag waving above his head. Harry hands him a mug of tea and takes his own into the living room, turning the TV on and starting to flip through the channels. Louis follows him, grabbing his phone and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. 

**To: Anne :)**

_ told H to call you & he didn’t seem to keen on it.  
i’ll keep pushing him but idk if it’ll work.  _

**From: Anne :)**

_ thank you for trying love. don’t push him, he’ll do what he wants.  
_ _ when he’s ready. still going out w/ the guys tonight?  _

**To: Anne :)**

_ yeah, looks like it… i’ll call you later if i  
get the chance/if anything happens.  _

Anne doesn’t reply to his last text, but Louis doesn’t blame her. He glances over at Harry, who’s too wrapped up in channel surfing to even suspect that Louis’ texting his mum. They lounge around for the better part of the day, Louis breaking away from him to take a shower before they go out around four. When he comes back, Harry’s apparently decided that a quarter to five is a good time to start pregaming. 

Louis texts Zayn and says that Harry’s already started drinking as Harry hands him a beer. “I hope they play good music tonight,” Harry says absently while scrolling through his phone. He doesn't make much eye contact nowadays, Louis' begun to notice. 

“They’ve been alright with it lately. Lot’s of new stuff.” Louis replies, swallowing the words he really wants to say with a mouthful of beer. He can hardly even bring himself to drink alcohol, makes him sick thinking about Harry, but he does it anyway because somehow it makes everything feel a little bit better — as ironic as that is. 

The cab picks them up at seven, after Harry’s taken a power nap (a tipsy power nap, it’s worth noting). They don’t really speak on the car ride over, but the second they’re outside the club, Harry grabs Louis’ hand and they head for their usual booth, acting like something dark and deadly isn’t eating them both from the inside out. 

“Hey, you made it!” Niall exclaims. “First round of drinks is on you.” 

“I’ll grab them, you sit down,” Harry says. He kisses Louis’ cheek before heading off for the bar. 

Zayn, Liam, and Niall all lean in closer to Louis almost immediately. “He’s already almost drunk, yeah?” Liam asks, looking toward the bar in search of Harry. “Still worried about him?” 

“Yeah, he is. And, yeah, I am. Very worried. So is Anne,” Louis replies honestly. “I just don’t know what to do.” 

“It’s tough. Maybe we should, like, stage an intervention or something,” Niall suggests. “We can start by making this our last lads night until he gets his shit together. We won’t tell him it’s the last night, but it’ll be our last night out at a club. Or a pub. Or a party. Anything where the goal is to get shitfaced.” 

Louis nods. “It’s worth a shot. But he’ll… he’ll figure something out. I thought he’d fix it on his own but—” 

“Shots and beers!” Harry announces, setting a tray down on the table and scooting in the booth next to Niall. “Down ‘em in eight, lads!” 

They pound their drinks and soothe their burning throats with beer, starting to chat the night away. Harry breaks away from them a bit more than usual, more trips back to the bar where Louis has a hunch he’s getting free drinks by flirtation. It used to be somewhat of a game for the two of them — who could get the most free drinks out of the night — but now it’s more just an easy way for Harry to get drinks. He doesn’t have to pay for them, so he can use the excuse that he didn’t buy it, someone else did, therefore he’s “obligated” to drink it. 

“Hey,” Zayn says suddenly, picking his beer up from the table. “Wanna go grab a smoke? I’m getting antsy as fuck.” 

Louis nods, patting his back pocket to make sure that his pack of cigarettes is there before following Zayn out of the crowded club. They move around the corner of the building, away from the street, and light up. Zayn looks at Louis carefully, like he’s formulating a question or maybe trying to get a read on the whole situation without really asking anything. 

“I’m sorry, mate,” is all he ends up saying. Louis understands that sometimes there’s nothing much better to say. 

“I know. Everyone always is. Except Harry,” Louis laughs bitterly, flicking his cigarette. 

“He really doesn’t think there’s anything wrong. He thinks he’s got it under control and he won’t hear any other opinion until… I don’t know. Until something cracks through.” 

“What’s gonna crack through? Me yelling at him doesn’t work, his mum crying to him doesn’t work. You guys trying to distance yourself doesn’t work. We’ve all told him we were worried, we wanted to make sure he’s okay. I don’t know what’s going to work. Is something  _ bad  _ going to happen? I can’t even fucking imagine what that would be.” 

“H is high-functioning. He doesn’t think there’s a problem and he’s set on not stopping  _ because  _ of that.” Zayn replies, taking a drag on his cigarette. 

“I love him. I love him so fucking much it  _ hurts. _ He’s been there with me through everything ever since we were young. But I don’t love him when he’s like this, when he drinks like this. And lately it feels like he’s drinking more than he’s sober.” Louis admits, shaking his head. He leans against the wall, kicking a foot up against it to support himself. “I’m so fucking scared about what this is going to do to us, you know?”

He takes one long, final drag on his cigarette before stomping it out and pulling another out of the pack. “I can’t even talk to him when he’s like that. I can hardly even  _ look  _ at him. I’m going insane like this, Z. I don’t know how much longer I can do it for.” 

“I know, man. It fucking sucks. I don’t know what else to say to you about it. But we’re all here for you, we’re all in the same boat even though you’re a little more… attached to the anchor than the rest of us. We’re here for you and him. We’ll do whatever you need us to do. Whatever H needs us to do.” 

Louis nods, putting out his second cigarette without even finishing it. “Let’s get back in there. The sooner we’re back, the sooner we’re fucking done here.” 

Zayn nods in agreement, putting out his own cig before following Louis back into the club. Their night wraps up rather quickly after that — a little earlier than normal — after they find Harry in the bathroom puking into the toilet. They take a cab home after saying goodbye to the guys. Louis manages to make Harry take a shower and clean himself up before putting him in bed and retiring himself to the living room to call Anne. 

He hates how much of a routine this is, getting Harry asleep before calling his mum to talk about all of Harry’s problems because he won’t do it himself. 

“Home already? I figured you’d have a later night than this,” Anne says in lieu of a greeting. 

“Yeah, we uh. We had a little mishap, night got cut short, but it’s probably for the best.” Louis tells her. He didn’t really want to tell Anne that Harry was the reason that they cut the night short, but he figures he’s going to have to — figures that he  _ should.  _

“A Harry mishap, innit?” 

Louis sighs, rubbing his head with his left hand. “Unfortunately. Nothing too bad, I guess, looking back at it but… The guys and I decided tonight that we won’t go out like that anymore. We just won’t enable him like that, but we don’t plan on telling him that.” 

“Okay, that’s good. That might raise some red flags for him.” Anne says confidently. “Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?” 

“Assuming I can get H out the door, then yes.” Louis replies. “And I’m going to try very fucking hard to get him out the door.” 

********

“Hi, my love,” Anne smiles, kissing Harry’s cheek. “How’re you feeling?”

“I feel fine, mum. How are you doing?” Harry asks in reply, voice almost monotone, like he’s just on autopilot to get through this lunch. 

“I’m taking it day-by-day. I like getting to see my boys, though.” Anne spares a glance at Louis, who smiles encouragingly at her. “Any idea what you’re going to get?” 

Harry shrugs, flipping open the menu. “Might just get a salad. What about you, Lou?” 

“Chicken wrap, maybe. I haven't decided yet.” Louis replies. 

The waiter comes out after a few minutes, Harry and Louis both ordering their aforementioned suggestions and Anne getting a pasta dish, and then he leaves and Anne looks at Harry expectantly. “How was your…  _ lads night _ last night?” she asks, looking like the anticipation of waiting for an answer physically hurts her. 

“It was nice. Niall’s a riot when we’re at the club,” Harry replies simply, watching the waiter put three glasses of water down in front of them. “Too bad there’s no such thing as a noon-cap, huh?” 

Louis rolls his eyes, taking a sip from his water. “Don’t really think you need it after last night, Hazza,” he remarks. 

“See what I mean, you’re always accusing me of shit like that,” Harry says under his breath, almost like he doesn’t want his mum to hear him, even though, judging by the look on Anne’s face, she hears him loud and clear. “I’m running to the loo, I’ll be right back.” 

Harry gets up, his chair screeching against the concrete patio, and heads inside to the bathroom. Louis hangs his head, sighing heavily. “I’m really sorry about him. I told you I’d try, and I succeeded, but it was a goddamn war that I didn’t think was gonna end.” 

“I know, I figured it would be.” Anne reaches across the table and puts a hand over Louis’. “I just don’t know what to do about him. I’d feel awful dropping him, you know, cold turkey with everything, but maybe that’s what will work.” 

“I’ve thought about it, just walking out one day until he got his shit together. But on the other hand… I can’t bring myself to leave him.” Louis shakes his head. “We’re just walking on a wire, all the time.” 

Anne opens her mouth to reply, but the door to the restaurant opens and Harry comes back through the door. Anne recoils her hand from Louis’ immediately. “Food’s still not here? I’m so hungry.” 

“Those party nights really take it out of you, don’t they?” Anne muses, and Louis manages to laugh. Harry rolls his eyes, taking a long sip from his water. “I’m just messing with you, love. Anything important you have to update me on, or do you just feel like sitting here and eating in silence?” 

“I don’t really know, mum, what do you want to hear about?” Harry asks, still snappy, looking up at his mother. She smiles at him, but it’s a little sad, and shrugs. “We can talk about work, but that’s boring. Any other suggestions?” 

The remainder of the lunch is painful, to say the least. Louis can hardly believe that he made it through while he’s driving home after, Harry in the passenger seat next to him. At home, Harry shuts himself in the bedroom and Louis doesn’t really know what to do with himself after that. He starts making a grocery list and decides that it’ll get him out of the flat for a little bit. 

He knocks on the bedroom door, list still in hand. “Haz, I’m running out to the store, I made a list. You don’t want to come, do you?” 

Harry doesn’t even open the door to tell Louis that he doesn’t want to come shopping. So Louis goes alone to the supermarket and does the shopping himself. It goes faster than usual, maybe Louis’ rushing to get home to Harry or maybe he’s just a fast shopper. It doesn’t matter which. He brings the groceries into the flat himself, figuring that Harry won’t be any help. 

“Get anything good?” Harry asks, coming into the kitchen. He’s dressed in black sweatpants and nothing else, and Louis can see his hands trembling. He can already imagine Harry reaching for a beer from the fridge. 

“Just the essentials. We can make something for dinner later,” Louis replies, watching as Harry opens the fridge and pull out two beers. “I don’t really want one, H.” 

“Then I’ll hold onto it until I finish this one, I suppose,” Harry winks at him. “Dirty Dancing is on in five minutes, wanna watch?” 

Louis hesitates before he nods. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” 

Harry heads into the living room, and Louis stands in the kitchen and debates texting Anne that Harry’s drinking again but that he’s acting… strange. Louis joins him in the living room, sitting down in the corner of the sofa. Harry moves over closer, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder and Louis kind of jumps a little bit. 

Harry finishes one beer before the movie’s even fifteen minutes in, and Louis can tell that he’s trying very hard to stop himself from grabbing the next one. Louis counts in his head; Harry makes it another five minutes before he’s leaning forward and opening the other beer. 

********

roll it on home - john mayer **  
** **_finish out the bottle or step into the light_ **

Their Big Fight doesn’t come until Wednesday, when there’s a bank holiday and they both don’t have to work. Their fights always happen when they don’t have work and they’re home alone for hours on end. Harry makes an off-hand comment about wanting a drink, and Louis, again, outright accuses him of having a problem.

Like going zero to one hundred, all of a sudden they’re standing in the kitchen, throwing words like knives and Louis refuses to be the one to back down. “You’re a fucking  _ alcoholic,  _ Harry, I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this.” 

“Just because I like to drink now and then when we’re here or when we’re out means I’m a fucking alcoholic now?” Harry asks. “I don’t need you to be trying to fix me like this all the time, okay?” 

“I’m worried about you, H! Everyone’s worried about you! Your mum and your sister and the guys and  _ my  _ sisters. Everyone’s worrying about you because everyone is noticing that there’s something off about how you’re acting.” Louis points out. “You just don’t give enough of a  _ fuck _ about anything to look around and see what you’re doing to yourself and to other people!” 

“Oh, fuck you. I just lost Robin and-and  _ your _ mum too, for that matter, and I’m coping with all the shit that’s happening and you get all bent out of shape because… what? I’m not  _ talking  _ to you?” 

“That’s what we used to do, Harry, we used to  _ talk.  _ We were the couple everyone envied because we talked about everything, we knew each other like the back of our hands, we were always on the same fucking page. Now I feel like I hardly even know you at all.” 

“Oh, that’s a classic line, Louis. Just because you can’t fix me doesn’t mean that we don’t know each other or whatever else you think is wrong.”

“You know what? I can’t do this right now, Haz. I’m— I’m gonna crash at Zayn’s or something. I’m not sleeping on the fucking couch again.” 

“Fucking  _ fine _ , Louis. Leave. Walk out, you’re pretty damn good at doing that, I’d say,” Harry spits, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his back on Louis like he’s a goddamn child. 

Louis only grabs his phone on his way out the door, just wanting to get out as soon as he could because he’s fucking  _ angry _ . Louis does not just run away from things, he doesn’t just turn his back. Sure, he’s running now, but because he  _ needed  _ to leave or else he was going to say something he regretted. Louis Tomlinson does not run. 

Zayn opens the door to his flat immediately after Louis knocks. “What the fuck happened, bro?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. 

Louis decides to jump right into it. “We fought. I accused him of having a problem, not just, like, insinuated it. We’ve been home alone together all day and that’s never good, we’re nowhere near normal anymore. I accused him of being an alcoholic and he accused me of trying to fix him and being good at walking away,” he summarises, pretty well, given all the stress and anger he’s feeling. 

Zayn frowns, opening the balcony door and standing by it, lighting a cigarette. “Shit, Lou. That’s not even true. About being good at walking away.” 

“I  _ know.  _ I didn’t even try to argue it. If anything, I proved him right by telling him I was going to spend the night here. But he is right about me trying to… fix him.” Louis says, somewhat whimsically, joining Zayn at the door and lighting a cigarette of his own. “I do want to help him in whatever way I can, but he’s just not open to it. I want to fix him, I want him to get better.” 

“He hasn’t even admitted that there’s a problem. Isn’t that, like, the first step or whatever?” 

Louis scoffs, shrugging. “I mean I fucking guess. I don’t know. There’s not a handbook for  _ How to Handle the Love of Your Life’s Alcohol Problem Even Though He Wants No Help and Hates You for Trying.”  _

Zayn laughs. “Maybe you can’t help him, mate. Maybe you just have to let him hit rock bottom and  _ then  _ help him build back up. It’s gonna be hard, I know you hate watching him hurt at all, but… maybe it’s how it has to be.” 

Louis always hates how much smarter Zayn is when it comes to things like this. Maybe he just has more “street smarts”, as Liam likes to say, or maybe Zayn’s line of work (an art curator by day and a bartender by night) exposes him to more things than Louis can fathom. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Zayn learned a few things and a lot of the time those things come around to help Louis. 

So, Louis isn’t sure where Zayn learned to deal with an alcoholic boyfriend (at the pub, probably) but at this point, Louis will take whatever advice he can get. “I don’t know if this is how I  _ want  _ it to be, though.” 

“Well, you can crash here for the night if you don’t want to go home to H. And I don’t blame you for not wanting to go home. You should just wait until tomorrow morning, try to get him while he’s sober.” Zayn tells him, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the railing. “You and I can play FIFA or summat. Maybe call Liam and get him over here.” 

“No, I’d… I love him, but I’d kind of rather it just be us. I don’t really want to… deal with other people.” 

Zayn smiles sadly, nodding. “He might be consoling Harry, anyhow, so maybe it’s for the best that it’s just us two.” 

Louis and Zayn sleep in the same bed, because they’re best friends and because Louis is sad and because Zayn’s couch sucks. Louis sold him that couch when him and Harry moved into the same flat, so he knows for sure that it sucks to sleep on. In the middle of the night, Louis’ phone rings. He answers blindly, sitting up a little bit. 

“Hi, Lou. You’re gonna be  _ so  _ fucking mad at me,” Harry says, but he’s laughing, and Louis immediately gets  _ scared.  _ He hits Zayn, waking him up and hardly feeling bad about it, because he doesn’t know what the fuck this is and he  _ can’t  _ face it alone. 

Louis puts the phone on speaker before saying anything, because whatever Harry’s about to say he can say to Louis and Zayn. “What? Why, H? Are you home?”

“No. I got— I was out, and I drove m’self to the pub, but they wouldn’t let me back to my car, so now I’m down here at the station and I need you to come pick me up cos they won’t let me leave without someone. I got one phone call. I’ve always wanted to hear the  _ you get one phone call  _ line and I’m calling you. Because I love you and I want you to come pick me up. So can you, please? I know it’s late and it’s okay if you’re mad but please—” Harry rambles, eventually trailing off.

Louis looks at Zayn in shock, already throwing the sheets off and getting up. “Yeah, Harry, I guess I’ll be down as quick as I can.” 

Harry says  _ thank you thank you thank you  _ until Louis hangs up the phone and calls Anne. “I know it’s the middle of the night but I just wanted to let you know Harry’s  _ fine, _ but I’m going to pick him up at the station. They’ve got him for like public intoxication or rowdiness or summat, he didn’t really give a lot of information but I’ll ask when I get down there.” 

“Leave him there,” Anne blurts. “Just leave him there for the night. Get him in the morning.” 

Louis stops dead in his tracks. Zayn gives him a funny look. “I— I can’t do that, Anne. I know we said–we said that we’d make him shape up but I don’t know if I can just leave him sitting down there for the night.”

“Please. I know you don’t want to. I’ll take the blame. And if there’s any bond to pay, I’ll pay it, I swear. But leave him sitting there, let him face this.” Anne begs, and Louis never thought his life would come to a point where his boyfriend would be sitting in a cell and his mother would be begging Louis not to go pick said boyfriend up. 

He sighs, sniffling. Louis wipes his cheeks and takes a deep breath, Zayn making a sympathetic sound. “He could’ve died tonight, if they’d let him get in the car.” 

“I know, baby. And you should let him sit there and think about that.” 

Zayn opens his arms and beckons Louis back to bed without a word after he hangs up with Anne, and they both fall back asleep — but Louis doesn’t sleep very well.

In the morning, Louis picks Harry up from the station. He’s still a little drunk, Louis can tell, and his eyes are red from crying. “I fucking called you last night and you didn’t come! What the fuck was that?” Harry’s yelling as soon as he gets into the car, Louis flinching with the blow. 

“I was—” 

“No! I don’t want an excuse. You answered and  _ said  _ you were coming, and then you didn’t! I called for  _ you _ and you didn’t fucking come! I  _ needed  _ you and you weren’t there.” 

“I know, H.” Louis says softly. “But I was fucking angry and I was scared out of my mind and I thought maybe if you sat there for a night and thought about what you tried to do — thought about what could’ve  _ happened  _ if you’d made it in your car and drove away — that something would change and you’d stop all this.”

“They told me I got one phone call.” Harry says, voice low and eyes locked straight ahead. Louis spares a glance at him; Harry looks tired and he looks  _ angry,  _ but Louis is just as angry and he knows he can give Harry a run for his money when it comes to arguing. Louis hates when Harry gets mad, he just gets  _ quiet  _ and  _ calm  _ and Louis fucking hates that, sitting while boiling over in white hot anger while Harry is calm and collected. He braces for impact. 

Harry continues, “I got one phone call and I knew that you would come for me, because you always come for me no matter how much I fuck up. But I can feel it, all the time, Lou, and I could feel it during that one phone call that you were disappointed, that you weren’t going to end up coming. That you’d given up on me. But I kept on telling them you were coming, you were coming, my boyfriend who loves me is coming to pick me up and bring me home and now the cops are probably gonna go home and laugh about the drunk guy in the holding cell whose boyfriend never came to get him.” 

Hearing how much faith Harry had in him, how much Harry wanted him there,  _ hurts  _ Louis, makes him feel even more awful for not going. But Louis hardens his heart right back up again because online he read that sometimes people like Harry can do that, they make you think that you’re in the wrong for accusing them or trying to help them or even just being yourself.

“I’m not gonna let you make me feel guilty about it. I didn’t pick you up — not because I don’t love you — but because I was  _ pissed  _ at you and because I wanted you to learn a fucking  _ lesson.  _ I love you more than anything. And, yet, I almost don’t want to talk about this with you right now because you’re still drunk, I can tell, but I need to get this off my fucking chest because it’s killing me.” 

“Get  _ what  _ off your chest, Lou? Are you going to break up with me? Are you that miserable with me  _ all _ the time? Because don’t think I can’t tell. I could tell with that phone call that you weren’t there for me and I can tell with a lot of other things that we’re not the same as we used to be. We’re changing, you’re not there for me.” 

Louis laughs bitterly, shaking his head. He puts on his blinker and makes the turn onto their street. “I don’t  _ not _ love you. And I’m not breaking up with you. Unless you  _ want _ to, then I suppose that’s something we could… figure out. And I’m not miserable with you all the time. I’m miserable with you when you  _ drink.  _ I’m miserable with you when you yell at me for asking you not to drink or to stop drinking. I’m miserable when I get a phone call from you at the police station, drunk off your arse and about to be charged with public intoxication. I want to do something about this, Harry. I don’t know what’s going on with you and I fucking  _ hate  _ not knowing, but you won’t talk to me and I just don’t know what to do.” 

Louis finishes his spiel, and Harry doesn’t say anything. He parks in the parking garage across the street from their building and even when Louis moves to get out of the car, Harry doesn’t. He stays staring straight ahead. “Alright, well. I’ll leave you the car keys so you don’t asphyxiate in here. I’ll be upstairs, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you because I’m gonna take a shower or a nap or something.” 

Still, Harry says nothing in reply. Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he slams the driver’s side door shut. He goes up to their flat alone. He showers and he cries and then he gets his shit together, not wanting to let Harry get to him in that way. He can’t let Harry get to him like that, because then Harry will win. Then this  _ monster _ wins. 

Harry comes up after Louis’ opened a bag of crisps and is about to sit down on the couch. “I’m… I’m going to go in and take a shower, and then… then I don’t know.” 

Louis stands there, awkwardly, in the middle of the room, staring at Harry. He nods finally. “Okay. I’ll… see you when you’re done, then.” 

When a half hour passes and the shower hasn’t turned on and Harry hasn’t come out yet, Louis goes in. Not because he’s worried (not entirely), but because he’s… simply  _ intrigued _ as to why Harry hasn’t come back yet.

He hears the crying before he hears or sees anything else. Deep, painful sobs that Louis hasn’t heard anyone — let alone Harry — make since… since they lost Robin. Louis can’t believe he didn’t hear Harry crying from the couch. He nudges the bathroom door open, his heart completely  _ breaking  _ into a million pieces when he sees Harry crumpled on the floor looking like all the fight has been dragged right out of him. 

“Harry, Harry,” Louis murmurs. Harry tries to push himself up, but he’s crying too hard and it’s almost like he can’t even hold himself up. “Why are you crying, my love? Let’s talk, c’mon. Talk to me.”

He’s crying so hard he can barely even  _ breathe.  _ Louis finds himself flipping through his mental catalogue and desperately trying to remember where Harry’s fucking inhaler is; even though he hasn’t used it in forever. “Harry, love, do you need your inhaler?” 

Harry shakes his head, still crying and gasping for breath. Louis nods, reaching for the drawer on the vanity anyway because he’s pretty sure that’s where the inhaler is resting, wrapping his hand around it tightly. “Okay, then I need you to breathe with me, H. Deep breaths, feel?” Louis puts Harry’s hand on his own chest and takes a deep breath, just like he wants Harry to take. He takes their hands and puts them on Harry’s chest now, as Harry takes a shaky breath in. 

“In-inhaler.” Harry says, grabbing Louis’ wrist tightly. “Just… give it to me.” 

Louis holds the inhaler up to his mouth, helping Harry to use it as he takes a deep breath in. “Okay. You’re alright, babe, just breathe. In and out, in and out.” 

Harry pushes Louis’ hand away after another few deep breaths, leaning back against the counter. “Okay, love? Tell me you’re alright, H. You haven’t used this thing in for-fucking-ever and I’m really, really scared.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asks, looking up at Louis through clumped-together eyelashes. “Are you mad at me because I was at the fucking station and I yelled at you and I’ve  _ been  _ yelling at you? And because I still haven’t taken a shower and probably smell like alcohol and vomit? And because I’ve been drinking? Lou, you’re mad at me, aren’t you?” He rambles, absolutely rambles, not even giving Louis a chance to get a word in. With his breath back now, Harry’s unstoppable. 

“Harry, love, I’m not  _ mad  _ at you—” 

“If you just say you’re mad at me, then at least it’ll be out in the open and we can talk about it.” Harry says angrily. “You said it yourself, we used to be the people that talked about things.” 

“I— You’re.” Louis pauses, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I guess I’m mad at you.”

Harry’s crying only seems to pick back up with that, making Louis’ heart hurt just that much more. “I’m  _ sorry, _ Lou. I’m so fucking sorry that I’m doing this to us. I’m gonna stop, okay? I promise I’m gonna stop. Cold turkey, right now, m’never gonna have another drink again.”

“I don’t want you to do it like that. I don’t— I actually didn’t really think about how you should do it, I really just… just wanted to talk about it. With you.” Louis admits, feeling really dumb now because he was so keyed up for the longest time and now they have the chance to finally cast this demon out and Louis doesn’t even know what to say to banish it. 

“Okay!” Harry exclaims, wiping his face. “Let’s talk, we’ll talk right now and everything will be okay!” 

“I want to do that, H, but can we get you showered first? You’ll feel so much better.” 

Harry finally pushes himself to his feet, starting to strip his clothes off right there. He turns the shower on while still wearing his boxers, and Louis has to remind him to take those off. It dawns on Louis, as he sits on the toilet seat lid and watches Harry get in the shower, that he doesn’t remember the last time he saw Harry naked. That used to be an everyday occurrence, multiple times a day if they were lucky. But looking at him now, Louis cannot remember the last time they did anything together even remotely… for pleasure. 

“I’m going to stop,” Harry says, turning to look at Louis through the shower door. “I’m going to fix it. I know everything has been bad. But I’m gonna stop.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it now, Haz.” Louis says, suddenly feeling unsure in his whole stance with Harry’s entire problem. 

Harry gives him a funny look, then turns the water off and opens the door. Louis hands him a towel, which Harry uses to pat himself dry a bit before wrapping it around his waist. “I thought you wanted to talk about it.” 

“I did. I  _ do,”  _ Louis says quickly, looking up at him. “But I… I don’t know.” 

“Okay.” Harry says slowly, heading out of the bathroom and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Louis’ following him. “Will you listen to me talk, then?” 

“Yeah! Of course, love, always.” 

Harry smiles to himself, shutting the bedroom door behind Louis, as if this conversation is so private the rest of the empty flat can’t even hear it. Louis can feel himself getting  _ nervous.  _ He’s spent so much time thinking about an actual talk about the problem; dreaming up all the things he’d say and all the countless ways the conversation could go. Now the opportunity is here and Louis’ absolutely terrified, all of his internal plans and scripts and monologues burnt to ash. “Haven’t heard you use names like that in awhile.  _ Love.” _

“I— I know,” is all Louis can find to say. It’s true, he knows, but he just felt the pet names dropping off the face of the earth the further away Harry fell. 

“So, like. When we lost your mum in December, it fucking sucked. I felt like I was just watching you crumble and nobody knew what to do,  _ I  _ didn’t even know what to do. There was nothing I could do to help you, there was nothing I could do to take the pain away from you or your sisters or myself. You didn’t leave the flat for the longest fucking time after we came home from your mum’s house. I could feel you slipping further and further away from me and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. The only time you were yourself was when we got drunk, and even then you eventually fell into just this… sadness.” 

Louis knows, he doesn’t need a reminder. A reminder of the months he spent in absolute agony (of the months he  _ still  _ spends in agony), hollowed out after the loss of his mother. Louis can still feel himself trying to fill up again, can feel himself looking for pieces of his mother in everything, can feel himself trying desperately to hold onto her. He doesn’t need Harry to walk him through those awful months, but if this is where the story begins, then so be it. Louis sits back against the headboard and looks up at Harry — who’s in the middle of pulling on clothes as he speaks — and already feels tears forming. 

“That was tough. That was when I first started substituting alcohol for other things. Sex, conversation, etcetera. It made me feel… numb. It made me feel like I was in another life, one where I wasn’t me and these things weren’t happening. And then last month we lost Robin and I just… I couldn’t stop. It got to a place I never thought it was going to go, a place I’m still not fully letting myself believe it’s even gone. It doesn’t feel right if I don’t have some alcohol in me. Even now my hands are starting to fucking shake and it’s ten in the morning. I don’t even have to get shitfaced, but I know that’s what happens when you drink for a long time. Just one fucking pint is enough to get the shaking to go away, but sometimes that just…. isn’t enough.” 

“I know. I can tell when you’re craving it. You get the same way I do when I need a smoke. And I can tell how calm you get while we’re drinking. That… drinking makes it all go away?”

Harry nods, sitting cross legged on the bed. “It makes everything feel less…  _ loud _ most of the time. We have a lot going on right now. It feels like we’ve always just… had a lot going on, you know? You were working on becoming a lawyer and I was working for a job at the nonprofit and now I  _ do _ work for Simon, obviously, but still. The hard work paid off. Then we lost your mum and Robin and… you and I are only twenty-five and twenty-three years old and it’s just a  _ lot.  _ Whenever I’m drinking I feel like I’m living the life of a  _ normal  _ twentysomething, not one who’s… I dunno.” 

“Possessing a proper job and having underwent a lot of emotional trauma and tied down in a committed relationship with a partner who has tons of his own baggage?” Louis rattles off, shooting Harry a half-smile. It’s all his body can fight out against this  _ demon  _ that’s holding them hostage. “Yeah, I feel like that sometimes, too.” 

“But I’m going to stop. I’m twenty-three and I’m…” Harry slowly trails off upon realizing what he’s going to say. “I’m swearing off alcohol.  _ Fuck.  _ I can’t believe this.” 

Louis reaches forward and wipes the tears from Harry’s cheeks with his thumb. “We’ll just take it one day at a time, my love. Just get through today, and we’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.” 

Harry smiles sadly, leaning into Louis’ gentle touch. “I love you. I haven’t said it in awhile, but I’m glad I have you.” 

“I love you too, H.” Louis says softly. “I haven’t said it either, this is a two way street.” 

“But you showed it. Because you stayed.” 

“Just took it one day at a time, that’s all.” 

Harry sleeps for a long time after they talk. Then he comes out to the living room and they cook and eat dinner together and Louis pretends he doesn’t see Harry’s hand reach for a beer in the fridge.

“I’m glad you talked to me,” Louis says quietly, later, when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching TV like they haven’t done in _forever_. Harry’s just felt so far away lately, even though he was so close Louis could touch him, and now that they’ve crossed the Talking About It bridge, Harry’s tangible again. 

“I’m just sorry it took so long.”

“You didn’t think there was anything wrong. A lot of the things I read said that it was normal for you to say that, you know, you didn’t have a problem.” Louis replies, grabbing Harry’s hand and starting to play with his fingers absently. 

“You were reading things? Like, blogs?” 

“I didn’t know what to do,” Louis whispers, feeling like an idiot for it now. He feels especially dumb because the forums and articles didn’t even  _ help;  _ they just made him more nervous and more upset, which Louis hadn’t even thought to be possible. 

“I’m going to go see my mum tomorrow. I’ll probably be gone before you even wake up for work. Gonna stop at the gym and probably shower there.” Harry says, looking down at their hands. 

“You don’t want me to come?” 

“No. You’ve missed enough work because of me. I’m skipping work but I  _ have _ to; I already texted Simon and he told me to take however much time I needed. But you can’t keep missing work. James is going to kill you  _ and _ me. And this is something I need to do on my own, anyhow.” 

“Okay, baby, if you’re sure. Then I guess I’m alright with it.” 

Harry sits up, making Louis drop his hand, and looks over at him. Then he leans in and kisses Louis, gently, hesitantly, like he’s never done it before. And it has been a fucking  _ while,  _ it does feel a bit like a first kiss. 

Louis and Harry fall asleep on the couch. Louis wakes up a few hours later, dazed and confused, to nobody on the couch. There’s a beer bottle sitting on the coffee table, a sip still left, and Louis sighs. He glances at the clock — it’s two in the morning — and gets up, throwing the beer out. Louis finds himself looking around for any traces of anymore alcohol consumption, but finds nothing. He heads upstairs to where Harry’s out cold in the bed, and falls right back asleep there. 

********

“He’s still out with Anne now,” Louis says, looking down at the grinder he has in his hands. It’s small, blue, with an anchor on it, Harry got it for him for Christmas; he’d shoved it in the bottom of his stocking last Christmas without remembering that they’d be with Louis’ entire family. “I hope they’re talking about, you know, the issue, but I’m not sure if Harry’ll actually talk to her about it.”

“We didn’t think he’d ever talk about it with you. But he did.” Niall points out. “I think you should have faith that he’s explaining himself to his mum too.” 

“I do!” Louis says quickly, opening the grinder up and grabbing the wrap from where it’s resting on Zayn’s thigh. “I do think he’ll tell her. I just don’t know how much, or what she’ll say and how he’ll react to whatever she does say. I mean, her and I have been on the same page about the whole situation, but when he’s actually in front of you and he’s talking to you about why he turned to drinking as heavily as he did… It fucking _does_ things to you, mate, I don’t even know how to explain it.” 

“That’s how people like him work when it comes to explaining themselves, or whatever. They make you think that it’s not wrong. Alcoholics, man.” Zayn shakes his head. “Are you almost done?” 

Louis nods, trying to get as much into the joint as he can before he seals it up. “I don’t think he’s an alcoholic, necessarily. But I do think that there’s a problem.” 

“If you don’t think he’s an alcoholic, you’re just as bad as he is,” Niall says. It sounds kind of harsh coming from someone else, Louis thinks, he’s only ever heard the word from his own mouth or from Anne’s or maybe Harry’s, and hearing it from someone else is  _ harsh. _ He never wants the words  _ Harry  _ and  _ alcoholic _ to be in the same sentence again. 

Louis picks up the lighter and brings the joint to his lips. Before he can strike the lighter, Zayn reaches and takes the joint right from his fingers. “What are you doing?” Louis frowns, looking over at him. 

“You got first hits last time. I know you’re having a tough time but I can’t let you get first hits again.” Zayn says. “Light me up, please.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning over and helping Zayn light the joint before sitting back in his chair. The three of them pass the joint around until it’s gone, leaving the butt sitting in the ashtray. Louis pulls out his cigarettes after, making Niall roll his eyes. “So, Harry,” Niall says, like an ice breaker, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to make the conversation any easier. 

“He’ll be home soon, probably. He’s supposed to text me but my phone is inside, so I guess we’ll be surprised.” Louis shrugs, taking a drag on his cigarette. 

Zayn looks at him carefully, like he’s weighing what to say to Louis that would make him feel better but keeps on coming up empty. “I’m not… I don’t even know, mate.” Zayn admits, laughing. “I’m just… sorry, you know? That’s all.” 

“Sorry for what?” Harry’s asking suddenly, manifesting himself in the doorway and making Louis wonder how long he was standing there for. “I texted all three of you and none of you answered. You smoked up without me?” 

“There’s still more, we can roll you another joint if you want,” Niall offers, already leaning for the grinder. 

“No, it’s okay. Smoking, you know, makes me want to drink most of the time.” Harry says, putting a hand on Louis’ shoulder in a way that kind of catches Louis off guard. It’s like he’s just reminding Louis that he’s there. “Listen, my mum’s having Gemma’s surprise birthday tomorrow night. I dunno if you have, like, work shit to do, but we can try to go.” 

And that’s why the weird shoulder-touching thing is happening, because Harry’s trying to get Louis to do something that he might not want to do. Louis looks up at Harry before glancing back at Zayn and Niall briefly. “Maybe we can talk about it after Ni and Zayn leave?” 

Harry nods, moving to sit in the chair next to Niall. “You’re all acting weird. And I know you’re smacked, but… you’re still being weird.” 

It’s awkward after Harry arrives, to say the least. Zayn and Niall leave once Zayn is okay to drive, leaving Harry and Louis alone in their flat on the balcony. “Surprise party for Gemma?” Louis asks finally, looking over at Harry. 

“Yeah. It’s tomorrow night. I know you said tomorrow morning you have to go to the office, but if you’re feeling up to it we could stop by. I’m probably going to go no matter what, but having you there would be… helpful.”

“Helpful?” Louis asks, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Everyone’s going to be drinking and I’m going to want to and…” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I can have you be a buffer. But you can drink, I’ll babysit you.” 

“You don’t think that’ll, you know, be hard for you?” Louis asks, resting his chin on his hand. “To watch me drink and you not do it at all?” 

“I think I can handle it. If I can’t handle it then I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with, like, life right now. I don’t know if I need to  _ quit  _ completely, I just think I need to… slow down.”

“Okay, well, we can take it one day at a time.” Louis suggests, looking at Harry carefully. “I can see how hard it is for you just going cold turkey.” 

“I drank the other night. When we were watching TV after we talked,” Harry blurts, his head falling into his hands in what Louis’ sure is shame. “It was after you fell asleep but all I had was one beer, I swear. I stopped myself because I felt so fucking bad.”

Louis smiles sadly. “I know. I found the bottle on the coffee table when I woke up. You’re not exactly subtle with it, Haz.” 

Harry looks up at him again, tears in his eyes. “I really want to drink right now. Just being with mum and seeing her and how horrible she’s doing after losing Robin and Jay… it makes me want to get shitfaced.” 

“I know. It was the same way for me with Dan. It was the same way for me in general, all I ever wanted to do was get shitfaced no matter what,” Louis replies, shaking his head. 

There it is again, the resurgence of that demon that’s been holding them both hostage ever since Jay got sick. It pops up again and again, in every problem and in every conversation, stringing Louis along and always making him remember that things haven’t been okay for a long time. That demon is what took his mother, that demon is what drove Louis insane, that demon is what took Robin, and it’s what’s trying to take Harry. Louis refuses to let it win. 

“Do you still feel high? Can we just, like, go inside and chill? I need to think about things other than drinking,” Harry asks, overcompensating his explanation. Louis doesn’t mind the exaggerated explaining, he appreciates it a bit, actually. 

“No, I feel fine.” Partial lie, Louis still feels a little smacked, but Harry can probably tell and probably doesn’t mind. “We can go inside and chill.” he echoes, standing up. He grabs the grinder and the lighter from the little glass table and follows Harry inside, shutting the glass door behind them. Harry sits down on the couch while Louis puts the grinder and the lighter in the kitchen drawer. When Louis comes back, Harry’s standing up again. 

“Can we go to the bedroom or something? I just don’t know what to do with myself but wanna be away from the kitchen.” Harry says awkwardly. Louis nods, not really knowing what to say in reply to that, and they both head into the bedroom in silence.

Harry sits with his back against the headboard, looking at Louis carefully. Louis lays across the center of the bed, staring up at the ceiling because he’s afraid to look at Harry. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes suddenly, reaching out and touching a foot to Louis’ calf. 

Louis captures Harry’s foot between both his legs so Harry stops fucking moving it, and looks over at him. “I’m sorry too, H.” 

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m the only one. All I’ve done the past few months is add to your stress and to your, like, sadness, and I’m sorry. I should be the only one saying sorry to anyone when it comes to this. I did this to us.” 

“You didn’t do anything to us.” Louis says, sitting up immediately, suddenly feeling stone cold sober.  _ “You  _ didn’t do anything to us. You’re going through some shit, some  _ really _ tough shit. And we’re gonna get you through it. You haven’t done anything to us.” 

Harry sniffs, looking away from Louis like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s about to start crying. Louis reaches forward and grabs one of Harry’s hands, smiling at him. “Baby, you didn’t ruin anything. You’re hurting and you’re trying to cope and you chose to do it in a way that… isn’t necessarily the most healthy. I know we got a little, you know, rocky for a bit, but it’s okay. We’re both okay.” 

Harry pulls his hand away from Louis. “I really just want it to stop. I wanted it to stop before, so I drank. But now I want it to stop and now I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t turn to the thing that’s made everything go quiet.” 

“We can do things to take your mind off it.” Louis says quickly, just trying to suggest things so they don’t fall into a dangerous silence. “Anything. Like, laundry, or watch TV, or go for a fucking walk, I don’t know.” 

“D’you wanna paint my nails?” Harry asks. That’s a random request, Louis doesn’t even remember the last time Harry painted his nails — let alone asked  _ Louis  _ to do it for him. But he nods eagerly anyway, watching as Harry leans to the bedside table and pulls out a bottle of dark green nail polish. 

“I’ve been biting them, too, so I think this might make me stop.” Harry says needlessly, watching Louis intently as he uncaps the nail polish bottle. “I can already feel the withdrawal kicking in. I read online that it might not be bad, but I've had shit luck lately and I have a feeling it’s going to be bad.” 

“The detox is probably gonna suck.” Louis says honestly, starting on Harry’s right hand. His hands are trembling, like they have been the past few times Louis has glanced at them. “But I’ll help you through it. Sweats and shaky hands and nausea and all.” 

“You’ve been doing your reading, too,” Harry points out. 

“I wanted to try to see if there was anything I can do to help you. The best I got was that I just have to sweat it out with you. Keep you distracted and make sure you keep drinking water.”

“I’m probably going to be a fucking nightmare at Gem’s birthday tomorrow night. But if you get shitfaced and I have to babysit you, it might do a great job of distracting me,” Louis looks up at Harry’s face just in time to see Harry crack a small smile – probably his first one in a month (that Louis’ seen, anyway). 

After Louis’ recovered from the shock of seeing Harry actually  _ smile,  _ he looks back down at Harry’s hands. “Okay, you can be my babysitter, then. Let your family see me extra rowdy.” 

“Not like they haven’t seen it before,” Harry murmurs. 

Louis laughs, and moves onto Harry’s other hand. Once the second coat has been applied and he’s put the bottle back on the nightstand, Louis sits back on his haunches and really  _ looks  _ at his boyfriend. He’s been with Harry just about every single day since they lost Robin, which really seems to have been the final nail in the coffin when it comes to Harry’s venture with alcohol. Harry’s changed since Robin passed, Louis thinks. He looks older, a little more tired, but that could just be the withdrawal and pure… exhaustion talking. He still looks beautiful, though, Louis’ told him time and time again how fucking beautiful he is but Harry never seems to believe it, as cliche as it is. 

Harry accuses him of staring, and Louis tells him that he’s allowed to stare, and Harry rolls his eyes. After Harry’s nails are dry they watch Netflix on Louis’ laptop until Harry falls asleep with his head on Louis’ shoulder.

********

sense of home - harrison storm  
**it’s like we’re losing our sense of home**

“I’m so sorry,” Louis apologizes. “You’re not feeling well, I should be taking care of  _ you.”  _

He felt like shit the second he got too drunk. But it didn’t hit him until they were leaving the party, they were in the car on the way home, and then he started feeling drunk and  _ bad.  _ Harry’s been on edge all night, Louis could hear it in his voice and see it in his body language, he’s not feeling well. This detox thing is kicking his ass and now Louis’ off his.

“It’s okay, Lou.” Harry says, probably for the hundredth time, locking the door to the flat. “It’s really alright.”

Louis leans against the door, putting a hand on Harry’s cheek. “You’re burnin’ up a bit. Fever common with this shit?” 

“I don’t have a fever, at least I didn’t before we left. And, sometimes, yeah. As long as it doesn’t go too high then I’m fine. Sweat it out, remember?” 

Louis sighs, trying desperately to talk himself into being sober. Harry  _ needs  _ him again and Louis’ too inebriated to properly be there for him. Louis feels like he could  _ cry,  _ he can’t believe this is their life right now. Being positive is really fucking hard when it feels like everything around them is coming crashing down.

“You just can’t leave me, H.” Louis says, laying down on the couch because he might not make it the extra fifteen steps to the bedroom. “Promise me you won’t leave me.” 

Harry sits down on the edge of the coffee table, extending a bottle of water towards Louis. Louis takes it, cracking the seal and taking a big gulp. God, he’s a  _ mess.  _ “I’m not leaving you, Lou. I could never leave you. If anyone should be leaving someone, it should be  _ you  _ leaving  _ me.”  _

Louis gasps, handing the water bottle back to Harry. “I’m never leaving you. I told you. I’m gonna–gonna sweat it out with you.” 

“Okay,” Harry says softly, pushing Louis’ hair back from his forehead. “Get some sleep, okay?” 

Louis nods, pressing his face into the couch pillow. He falls asleep easily, waking up still on the couch at the arse-crack of dawn. Louis can already fucking feel a headache coming on when he makes himself get up from the couch and go down the hall to the bedroom, where Harry’s sound asleep. 

Louis only takes off his jeans before climbing into bed in the little space Harry has left. Just as he’s about to fall back asleep, Harry rolls over and buries his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, sighing contentedly. Louis’ body tenses up a bit, not used to Harry being this close to him. 

Eventually, he falls back asleep and doesn’t wake up again until he hears a bang from out in the kitchen. 

The headache hits him immediately, making Louis not even want to open his eyes. He forces himself to do it, though, drags himself to the shower and takes what might be the quickest one ever. After he gets out, Louis wraps a towel around his waist and opens the cupboard to see if there’s anything he can take for the  _ massive  _ fucking headache he’s got, but comes up empty. 

Back in the bedroom, Harry’s standing there with a breakfast bar, a glass of water, and two little pills in his hand. “Is this how you’re gonna poison me?” Louis asks, adjusting the towel on his waist.

Harry rolls his eyes. “You really think I’m gonna leave you?” he retorts, handing Louis the items and sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

Louis takes the pills with a gulp of water and starts eating the breakfast bar, just to get some food in him even though he feels kind of sick to his stomach. He remembers talking about that as soon as Harry brings it up, but Louis  _ really  _ wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Damn Drunk Louis. “I don’t think that. I don’t— I don’t remember exactly what I said but I was drunk, H.” 

“I know. And I think we both know that when we’re drunk is when we’re most honest with each other. You really think I’d leave you?” He repeats, looking at Louis in awe. 

“The thought… crossed my mind. I just thought things were so bad, and I didn’t know what you were thinking until we finally talked that day, and then it was okay.” 

“But you said it last night, while you were drunk. So you must still be concerned about it. About me walking out on you. And if anyone’s going to walk out, it should be  _ you.”  _

Louis stares at his dresser drawers, wills himself to open them and start getting dressed despite Harry’s watchful eye on him. Louis tries to plot out what to say, but he doesn’t really have an  _ excuse.  _ For a time, yes, he was afraid that Harry would leave him. The drinking was making him act so unlike himself it was terrifying. The drinking made him seem like he was going to leave. The drinking made him unpredictable. It’s not so much a concern now as it is a shadow of a doubt, one that sneaks up on Louis from time to time, one that doesn’t consume him as much as it did before Harry opened up to him.

“You’re really not going to say anything?” Harry asks suddenly. 

Right. Back to reality. Back to explaining himself. “I could never leave you. I told you, you didn’t do anything to us. I just… when things were really bad, before we talked, before you tried going cold turkey, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know where  _ my _ head was at, let alone yours.” Louis pauses, pulling a tee shirt over his head. “It crossed my mind that you might leave. You were upset and you were unpredictable when you were drinking and I thought maybe I’d wake up one morning and you’d be gone.” 

“God, Louis. I’m— I can’t believe you thought that. How long were you thinking that? How long were you going to sit on it before you said that you were worried about it!” Harry exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“I don’t fucking know, H!” Louis yells right back at him, because if he doesn’t fight Harry’s fire with some of the same fire they’ll burn out, and Louis can’t let that happen. “The feeling went away after a while, after I talked to you! It just came out last night because I was drunk and because…” Louis trails off, feeling in his heart where the sentence is going and really not wanting to finish it. 

“Because you still have doubts. You still think I might leave. You think that I won’t be able to quit, you think this might tear us apart.” Harry finishes for him, as Harry often does, his voice low but filled with so much  _ rage  _ Louis fears the explosion. “Fucking  _ admit it,  _ Louis! You don’t know if we’re going to make it out of this!” 

“Fucking  _ fine,  _ Harry, you want me to tell you what I was thinking? I was thinking about you getting in the car one morning and not coming home. Just getting in and driving, one hand on the wheel and one on a fucking traveller that you made for yourself. I was thinking about you crashing your car on your way home from work because I  _ know  _ Simon keeps a cart in his office.You’ve had enough late night work talks with him for me to be sure of  _ that _ much. I was thinking about how I lost my fucking mum and I couldn’t figure out how the hell I was going to deal with losing you too. I was thinking that you’d spiral so far down that I’d never be able to pull you out. Then I was thinking that you’d just pull me right down there with you, and then who’s supposed to save us? Your mum doesn’t know what to do, Gems doesn’t know what to do. Nobody knew what to fucking  _ do  _ about it!” Louis is the one that explodes first. It shocks him just about as much as it shocks Harry.

He takes a deep breath before forging on, “I didn’t know what to do. I racked my brain and I talked to your mum and Zayn and, I don’t know, whatever fucking Gods are out there about what to do. I googled and I read forums and blogs and medical sites and I chatted online with some therapist or some shit and none of that helped. None of them told me how I could save you, how I could lessen the pain you were feeling, how I could make you feel better without pouring you a drink. Yes, I worry that you won’t make it through this. This–this  _ thing  _ that’s eating you alive from the inside out is going to grab ahold of me and I can’t figure out how to stop it. Thinking of you not coming home one day made me feel like I couldn’t fucking breathe. Thinking of the fact that you’re hurting and there’s so little I can do to shelter you that you had to turn to  _ drinking  _ your life away like you’re Charles fucking Bukowski makes my skin crawl. I want nothing more than to stop thinking about the worst case scenario but I  _ can’t.”  _

Harry stares at Louis, mouth open like he wants to say something but can’t force the words to come out of his mouth. He’s crying and Louis hates to see him cry but can feel himself crying too. Louis hardly feels in touch with himself, he feels numb from head to toe. He wishes his mouth would stop moving.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go for a walk, I think. Clear my head and give you some space,” Louis forces out. He can’t decide if that’s better or worse than continuing to hound Harry on all the Bad Things Louis has been thinking about. 

He grabs his pack of cigarettes from the counter before heading out, not even stopping to look for his phone. Louis starts off down the street, already lighting one up. 

By the time the sun’s disappearing behind big rain clouds, Louis’ smoked through almost the entire pack. He stops on the nearest bench, dropping down like he weighs more than the whole world, and hanging his head down low. 

It starts raining on him, of fucking course it does, and Louis struggles to light his next cigarette. There’s a certain heaviness hanging over him –  _ on  _ him – that Louis isn’t really sure how to get rid of. Talking to Harry about things is supposed to make it better, not make Louis want to drop off the face of the earth in the very same way that he’s afraid of Harry doing. When the skies open up and the rain comes pouring down on him, Louis becomes awash with pure  _ guilt.  _ His anger gets washed away with the rain and all he feels is awful for yelling at Harry the way he did. 

He wants to help fix Harry, help pull him out of this hole, but yelling at him like that certainly can’t be the way to do it. Louis knows that’s not fixing anything because his heart feels torn right open rather than sewn back up. Louis knows that’s not fixing anything because Harry just stood there crying, didn’t even try to stop Louis from leaving or fight back like Louis knows he can. 

Louis finally picks himself up, feeling wetter from the rain by the minute, and treks back to their flat. He’s only got two cigarettes left of what was an almost-full pack and even that doesn’t raise any concern at this point. The door is unlocked when Louis gets upstairs, and he braces himself for whatever is waiting (or not waiting) behind it. 

Inside the flat, it’s quiet. Louis drops his pack on the counter, spotting a few empty bottles of beer on the edge of the counter near the sink. Louis feels his heart drop. He should’ve checked to see if Harry’s car was outside, he should’ve taken the fucking  _ keys  _ before he ran out like that, Louis can’t stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong. 

He finds Harry, though, in the bedroom, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “Are you drunk?” he asks softly, shutting the bedroom door behind him. These words are just too private to let flow through the flat. 

“I dumped them down the drain. And you’re probably going to yell at me about how much they cost, or maybe you won’t even believe me, but I dumped them down the sink,” Harry replies, not moving his eyes from where they’re locked on the ceiling above his head. “I was going to start drinking, but then I thought about everything you said and I just… dumped them down the drain.” 

He sits up suddenly, but doesn’t meet Louis’ gaze. He studies Louis’ appearance, which is certainly shit, and notes how soaking wet he is. Then Harry gets up from the bed and pulls dry clothes from the drawer for Louis. “Change into them. You’re going to get pneumonia or something. I’m gonna go make you a cuppa. Come out when you’re done, okay? We… we have to talk. Not yell, we have to  _ talk.”  _

This time, it’s Harry leaving Louis in the dust. Louis stands in shocked silence for only a few seconds before he snaps out of it, changing out of all his wet clothes and meeting Harry in their kitchen. The skies have darkened immensely, the rain still pouring down, and Louis hopes it’s not an omen of things to come. 

“Here,” Harry says, handing Louis a mug. “I’m going to talk, but I’m not going to yell at you. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t yell back at me, no matter how much you may want to.” 

Louis nods, still not able to push words from his throat.

“I heard everything you said before you left. I didn’t know how much this was affecting you, but I heard you. And all I can think to say is that I’m sorry for putting you through that. I didn’t think about what I was doing, about what it was doing to the people around me. All I was thinking was that it tasted good and it made me forget about everything that was going wrong. I never realized how much that was fucking you up and as much as I’d like to blame it on the alcohol, I don’t know if I can. I was being selfish, I was being rude, and I was acting with no regard for anything — not even my own life. And it never crossed my mind how much it must have hurt you to see me like that. I wish there was some other way that could’ve come out; I didn’t mean to yell at you and have you yell back. But all I really can think to say is that I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I was doing to you and I didn’t mean to push you into admitting what you were thinking — even if I am glad that I know now.” 

Harry pauses and Louis thinks he has more to say, but nothing else comes. Louis takes a deep breath, setting his mug down on the countertop and looking at Harry carefully. He looks tired, like he’s been crying even more since Louis left, and Louis hates that he wasn’t here to comfort him — hates that he was part of the reason that Harry was crying in the first place. 

“It really did fuck me up. There was probably a calmer way that I could have told you all the things that I was thinking, and I probably should have talked to you about it sooner,” Louis admits, starting off slow and knowing that he can’t get worked up again because he promised Harry no yelling. “I don’t think you meant to hurt anyone else. I just think that the grief and the sadness and the drinking clouded your judgement so much that you didn’t realize who you were hurting. It made you look out for yourself, it made you feel protected in a way that I couldn’t manage to, and that… that was difficult for me to watch. Watching you turn to such a drastic and destructive method of coping and knowing that there was so little I could do to stop you — to save you — it tore me apart.”

“That’s the thing, Lou.” Harry breathes out. “I don’t want you to save me. I don’t  _ need  _ you to, and I know that you want to, I know that saving people who are hurting is what you do. But I don’t need you to be Captain fucking America for me, babe. I’m hurting and I don’t know when it’s going to stop but I don’t need you to put your ass on the line to save me.  _ This  _ doesn’t work like that.” 

Louis wipes away a tear, looking at Harry’s face and willing Harry to look back at him. “I just want to help you, I want to make things okay.” 

Harry finally looks up at him, striding across the kitchen with no hesitation to cup Louis’ face with one hand, knocking away tears with his thumb. “ _ Babe _ , I don’t want you to do that. I don’t know if you  _ can,  _ so I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying. I’ve hurt you enough as it is, I don’t need you hurting yourself. We can figure this out, I have to believe that we’ll get through this — both individually and as, you know, a couple. But we can only figure this out if we do it  _ together,  _ it won’t work if you’re trying to fix me and I’m trying not to hurt you.” 

“Together.” Louis echoes, putting a hand over Harry’s. “I’m sorry for yelling at you before. And for leaving. I know you can get through this it’s just… scary sometimes.” 

Harry nods, pressing his lips to Louis’ forehead. “I know. And that’s my fault. You’re allowed to be upset or angry with me. I just didn’t realize what it was doing to you, like I said. But I’m glad you told me. Now everything’s out in the open and we can get through it. Together.” 

Louis sighs, resting his head against Harry’s chest. He still feels guilt, pushing right up against his fear and his doubts, which are all still living within his body and he’s not quite sure how to kill them. Even once Harry’s further removed from this — from the grief and the hiding and the drinking — Louis’ still going to worry about it happening again. Would that make it a relapse?  _ God,  _ he can’t believe the man he loves is even vulnerable to a relapse. They’re too young to have this happening to them now. Louis isn’t sure he can handle it.

“You’re still thinking about it,” Harry remarks lowly, pulling away from Louis and looking at him carefully. “Stop thinking about it.” 

“I’m trying to stop thinking about it. It’s just always in the back of my mind. I feel like everything we do revolves around it. It’s just… controlling us.” 

“I know. I know,” is all Harry says in reply, and that’s it. 

********

James asks about Harry on Monday. Louis is minding his business, researching for their next big case like James asked him to, and James comes into Louis’ office (which is an upgrade from the bullpen desk he had just six months ago) and sits down across from Louis’ desk. Louis should have expected it more, really, but he knows exactly what James is going to prod about the second he shuts the door and sits down. 

“How are things with your boy?” 

Louis shrugs, not looking up from his computer and hoping that the conversation will be over soon. “They’re better, I guess. I’m still worried about him, but there’s not much I can do.” 

“Is he stopping?” 

“He’s trying. He had really bad, like, withdrawal a few days ago but I haven’t seen anything since. Something inside me is telling me that he hasn’t really stopped completely, but I don’t think it’s as bad as it used to be.” 

James hums, nodding. “You’ve talked about it? Cleared the air? Because I feel like the last time you and I spoke about this there was a lot of… you know, baggage, that you were harboring.”

Louis finally looks away from the computer at at his boss — and friend — and suddenly he feels like he could cry. “We had a big blowout fight over the weekend. I told him that I was worried for a time about him walking out on me, and that sometimes it still worries me, and it came out a lot… more harsh than I intended.” 

James clicks his tongue. “But he’s still drinking?” 

“I mean, I’m not  _ positive,  _ and he’d never admit it, but I think he might be. The sober wave just doesn’t seem to be… hitting him.” 

“Well, maybe it won’t.” 

Louis shakes his head. “I thought about that, and I did an inordinate amount of googling, but I still feel like he might be drinking. Like I said, not as bad as it used to be, but at least a little bit. At work or before he comes home or something. He’s different when he’s sober and when he’s drinking, there’s a very clear difference and I can just tell when he’s got even a little bit in him. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid, I don’t know. But it’s driving me fucking nuts.”

“I think you just have to stick with him. Don’t leave him in the dust, no matter how hard it gets. He loves you, Lou. No matter how much he drinks or doesn’t drink, I don’t think he’ll ever stop loving you.” James says confidently, and he’s very persuasive and Louis would never want James interrogating him on the stand because he’s very convincing. 

Louis sighs heavily, rubbing his face with his right hand. “It’s just—” 

There’s a soft knock at the door briefly before it opens slowly, Louis and James equally as shocked to see Harry standing there. “Hi, Lou. James. Sorry for just dropping by like this, but I, uh. Simon’s given us an ‘indefinite’ lunch break because he’s stuck in a meeting and I figured I’d bring you lunch. If that’s okay, James, I don’t mean to take him away from you and his work—” Harry explains messily, making Louis break out into a smile that he hides behind his hand.

James stands up, greeting Harry with a hug. “Of course not, H. We love having you around here. Keep him for as long as you’d like. But, if you could push him to finish up the research for our next case, that’d be fantastic.” 

Harry laughs, adjusting the plastic shopping bag that’s on his arm. It must have whatever Harry brought for lunch in it. Louis hadn’t even brought lunch, he was just going to go to the cart outside and pick up something small and trashy. James leaves them alone finally, and Harry looks at Louis. “Door open or closed?” 

“I like it closed when I’ve got guests. This is quite the surprise,” Louis replies, putting the brightness down on his computer so he’s not as distracted by it. “An  _ indefinite  _ lunch?” 

“He’s in a meeting with a big client and Niall and I weren’t doing any good sitting outside of it. If he needs us he’ll call us. I brought lunch today, more than I’d ever actually eat myself, so I figured I’d come share it with you. And I like to watch you work.” Harry smiles, sitting down across from Louis and taking two tupperware containers out of the plastic bag, along with two bottles of soda.

“You just happened to grab two bottles of soda?” Louis asks amusedly. “And you brought two forks?” 

“Well, no. I bought the second soda from the vending machine in your lobby and I stole the fork from Niall’s lunch before I left. I’m pretty sure he had soup, so he won’t be needing it,” Harry admits, opening the containers. He’s brought salad and breaded chicken from home, which, quite honestly, Louis didn’t even know was in the fridge. “Y’remember when we first moved into the same flat? You didn’t want to give yours up at first so we did trial runs in both mine and yours and eventually you realized that mine was just… better?” 

“I wouldn’t flatter yourself that much, Styles.” Louis rolls his eyes, leaning over and taking a forkful of salad. “I caved. Because I could tell that you really didn’t want to give up your place. And you meant more to me than a stupid flat, anyhow. It didn’t matter where we lived.” 

Harry pauses chewing, looking at Louis carefully. “That’s sappy. But you never told me that.” 

“Of course I didn’t tell you that. Even now, it hurts my pride to admit that I caved in like that. But… it was worth it. My flat was a dump anyway, so.” Louis shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant but knowing that Harry sees right through him. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re a sap. Even when you don’t want to admit it. So, what’re you working on?” 

“Without violating contracts and privacy laws and whatnot, we’ve got a girl whose boyfriend… spread around a video of her.” 

“That’s a court case?” Harry asks, eyebrows arched. 

“Considering the nature of the video and the fact that it was of her and… another girl, yes. We’re defending her, of course. And James has me looking for dirt on the boyfriend. It’s essentially revenge porn, and it can get him pretty fucked up.” 

Harry laughs with a mouthful of food, covering his mouth with his hand. _ “Pretty fucked up _ is the lawyer term for what’s happening to him legally?”

“Between you and I, yes. This case is more interesting than, like, the big business versus small business cases we tend to get a lot of. And James is really letting me take the lead on it, so I’m pretty pumped. As fucked up as it is to be excited over a revenge porn situation. If I’m lucky he’ll even let me try it in court myself, which I haven’t gotten to do yet for James.” 

Harry’s face goes soft and he lowers his fork instead of going for another bite. “How long have you been working on this for? And you didn’t tell me?”

Louis casts his gaze downward, suddenly feeling that guilt wash over him. He spares a glance outside, checking to see if there’s any rain that could be causing this guilt (or potentially wash it away). There’s nothing but clear skies. “It’s been, like, a month? And you and I have been so…” 

“Fucked up,” Harry supplies, still sounding like he’s hurting. 

Louis tries to laugh, but it just sounds pained. “Yeah, fucked up. We’ve been so fucked up that I just… never brought it up. It didn’t feel right. And we got this case, like, right after you lost Robin. I didn’t want to make you feel even worse when you heard about a queer girl and her homophobic boyfriend who outed her.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment, then he clears his throat. “Speaking of queer girls, I know a girl who just started working for us at the nonprofit. Her family is… loaded, I guess you could say, and they’re a bit of small town royalty. Not actual royalty, though, I asked. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, she’s gay – well she doesn’t like putting labels on it, but still – and her family is trying to sue her for defamation because she tried to speak out about how oppressive they were. It seems like such a dumb case, that’s what all the people she’s spoken to have told her, but her parents refuse to drop the suit. I was going to ask you and James if you’d, y’know, take a look.”

Louis looks at him in awe. “You think we could help her?”

“I think  _ you  _ could help her. If not legally, like in court, maybe you could just go and act all lawyer-y and scary and get them to drop the suit. She thinks once they see how serious she is about this, they’ll back off.” Harry suddenly seems ignited, more passionate about something than Louis’ seen him in ages. “She does really great work for the nonprofit and Simon’s already told me all about how afraid he is of losing her to this.” 

“I mean, yeah.” Louis replies, still somewhat stunned. “I’m sure James would be open to taking a look. If he doesn’t want to either take it on himself or let me take it on, I’ll look over it in my free time and just… tell her what the best thing to do is. Off the record and off the books. Free of charge, really.”

Harry exhales a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d say yes. Brynn didn’t think someone as high profile as Corden would want to pick up her lousy case with her parents.” 

“Just tell her I’ll  _ try  _ to get him to pick it up. And if he doesn’t, then I’ll look over her shit as a  _ favor.  _ Don’t tell her definitely whether or not we can help yet.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell her until you gave me a final answer,” Harry says simply. Louis can see his fingers itching towards his phone. 

“You already want to text her. Let her know, H. And I’m…” he trails off, watching Harry snatch his phone and type quickly to the girl. “I’m glad you’ve made friends. At the nonprofit. I’m glad you enjoy it.” 

Harry smiles, not even looking up from his phone, and Louis’ smiling too. To any outsider (or to James, who’s probably standing right outside Louis’ office looking in), they would seem completely normal. They’re talking and sharing their meal and laughing – laughing  _ together _ , Louis feels like they haven’t been like this in ages. Harry makes a joke about how he figured Louis would just smoke in his office like  _ Mad Men  _ and Louis says that he tried to get James to let him do it just once but James went on this whole spiel about how Louis would end up burning the whole building down. This would all seem natural, normal, like nothing was ever wrong, to anyone watching from the outside. It wouldn’t seem like something deep and dark was sprawling all across Harry’s body and wrapping Louis in deeper with every passing day. And, while they’re sitting and eating and talking and laughing, Louis doesn’t even  _ feel  _ like that dark and deadly thing is lingering.

“Mhm, Simon texted,” Harry says finally, and Louis thinks that’s going to be Harry’s cue to leave. “Oh. He’s still in meetings. They’re pitching him ideas, it’s driving him nuts.” 

Louis feels oddly relieved when Harry  _ doesn’t  _ have to go, he’s pretty sure he even visibly relaxes into his chair. “So you’re staying, then?”

“As long as you don’t need… need me, or want me, to go. James told me to get you working, but you’re not doing much of that.” 

Louis groans dramatically, tipping his head back. “I don’t  _ wanna.  _ It’s all so boring, I really don’t want to.”

“It’s not boring, Lou. You’re being overdramatic.” Harry replies, kicking a foot up on Louis’ desk like he owns the place (he  _ could; _ Louis would let Harry take his desk and his office and his whole job and the heart right out of his chest). “C’mon, you were so excited about this case thirty minutes ago and now you don’t even want to work on it?” 

_ “Talking _ about it and actually  _ doing _ it are two completely different things, Harold.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “C’mon, what’ve you got to do? Let me see the papers and stuff. I know technically I’m not supposed to, but… who’s gonna tell anyone?” 

Harry reaches forward and grabs the nearest file off of Louis’ desk. “No, it’s this one.” Louis says quickly, giving Harry another file. “It’s this. This is all about her, whose name I guess you’re going to find in a minute.”   
“Lana. I don’t really like that name. Could never name my daughter Lana.” Harry scrunches his nose. “She’s pretty. She’s the one that had the video taken, or whatever?” 

Louis nods. “Yeah. Her ex-boyfriend got it and sent it around. Now she wants to charge him with revenge porn, and I think his lawyer will probably settle. Nobody wants to waste time and resources in court over a case like this.” 

“Just because it’s a low-profile, petty case means it’s less important?” Harry asks, frowning. “That’s not fair. She deserves more than a settlement.”

“I know, but I really don’t know if I can convince James that it’s worth arguing over in court. He’s just as dedicated to cases like this as I am, but… this one isn’t one where we’d likely win in front of a higher court. They’d make it a he-said-she-said, and  _ she  _ tends to lose.” Louis shrugs. “It’s the smart thing to do. Moving for settlement and maybe, like, probation is what I’ll probably push her towards.” 

“I’ve never been to court with you.” Harry says thoughtfully. “Not when you’ve actually argued a case, at least. I’ve watched you sit at the table and assist James.” 

“Well, maybe if we end up helping your friend, you’ll get to see it.” 

Harry smiles, looking back down at the file in his hands. “Okay, so what kind of bad things have you found out about her boyfriend?” 

They keep working, until Harry gets up and goes to the cart that James gave Louis with his office upgrade and pours them both a drink. Louis freezes, watching Harry carefully. He hands Louis his glass and sits back down across the desk, staring at his own glass. He takes a shaky breath, then takes a sip. “I’ve thought about it,” Harry says after he’s swallowed, looking up at Louis. 

“Thought about it?” Louis repeats, swallowing hard. He’s not sure he could even pick up his glass without his hands shaking and spilling it everywhere. 

“Yeah.  _ It.  _ This  _ thing,  _ as you so eloquently refer to it. And I don’t think I need to stop. Which, I know that’s exactly why I should stop. But if I’m giving up alcohol, and I’m twenty-three years old, it’s going to be hard. And it’s going to be hard at every party and every family event and every late office night. I’m going to need you to be there for me. And I’m going to need you to be there for me when I tell you that tonight is going to be my last time drinking. I want to get totally smashed with you, just once more for an indefinite amount of time. And then I’m going to sweat out the withdrawals, and I’m going to deal with it.”

Harry sounds totally confident and calculated, like he’s been sitting on this long before he came into Louis’ office. “I can tell that you’re skeptical. I just hope you’d admit to me when you think there’s a problem. Tell me where your head’s at. Because this is the only way I can think that I can get myself… okay with this.”

Louis chews on his bottom lip, weighing all his thoughts very carefully. Finally, he says, “I know that you have a problem. And I think you know it, too, as hard as it is for you to admit that and come to terms with it. If you think that having one last…  _ hoorah _ is what’s going to make you accept the fact that you went through something really hard and became dependent on something that slowly started just…” Louis trails off for a moment, trying to find the words to say; trying to find a way to describe what happened to Harry. “It started taking you apart. I watched it take the boy I love and break him into someone who went on autopilot until he got a drink in him because that was when he felt most normal. But if you really think that a last banger of a night is what’s going to make you want to stop, then… I’ll be there for you during and after it. I’m not going anywhere, H.”

Harry sighs, seeming relieved to have gotten this off his chest. “And I read this article online that after you’re some time removed from heavy drinking you can ease back into it. It could go horribly wrong if you’re not truly ready but if you’re–” Harry starts to ramble excitedly, but stops when he sees the look on Louis’ face. “Right. One day at a time. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

Louis nods. “One day at a time.” 

“I love you.” Harry breathes out in a rush, like saying the words takes his breath away (Louis always feels like he’s losing his breath). “I feel like I could never tell you that enough. I love you, and I’m so fucking glad that you stayed with me even when you weren’t sure you could or if I deserved it. And I might be really fucking miserable in the coming days, so thank you and I’m sorry in advance for anything that happens.” 

Louis smiles sadly. “I love you too, Haz.” 

********

come home - baynk & shallou **  
** **_run away from all your curses_ **

Louis and Harry do get drunk, even though it’s a Monday night. Louis knows they’ll both be miserable in the morning, but Harry doesn’t sound like he wants to wait for Friday to roll around. Louis really does try to convince him, but Harry’s not having any of it. 

Louis kind of falls asleep in their bed, a bottle of wine next to his bedside table. He stirs again when he feels a weight straddling his waist. “Morning, babe.” Louis murmurs, hands falling to Harry’s waist. 

“It’s not morning.” Harry replies. “Take your shirt off, I wanna do something.” 

“You’ve definitely had more creative ways of getting in my pants, but okay,” Louis says, pulling his shirt off and going to reach for his pants. 

“No, don’t. I just need your shirt off, need you to stay still.” Harry says, reaching for the wine. Louis hears the distinct whirring of a tattoo gun, and that makes him feel a hundred different things at once, but he tries to settle down and relax into the bed. 

“You could share,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hip.

Harry speaks with the rim of the wine bottle touching his bottom lip. “It’ll make you bleed.” 

“Yeah, so will letting your half-drunk boyfriend tat you up at…” Louis cranes his neck to check the clock. “Half-ten at night.” 

Harry laughs, and gets right to work. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth while he leans in close, concentrating solely on etching something into Louis’ chest for the rest of time. “What’re you givin’ me, Haz?” Louis asks finally, trying to keep his eyes open but not doing a very great job of it.

“Givin’ you half of my heart. Want you to give me the other half. Your half.” Harry replies, looking up at Louis. “Think you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Louis nods, looking down at his chest, where Harry’s still dragging the needle across his skin. “Almost done?” 

Harry hums, nodding. He finishes in another few minutes of silence, kissing Louis on the mouth before flopping onto the bed next to him. “Okay, do me now.” 

“Been awhile since I’ve done this, H, don’t get pissed at me if I fuck it up.” 

“It’s okay. Just matters that you’re doing it yourself. For me. Know what I mean?” Harry asks, voice soft. Louis nods. He positions himself over Harry’s lap, leaning in close to his chest to focus on the same spot where Harry put Louis’. It’s still stinging a bit on his chest, a little reminder of Harry and everything they’ve gone through. Louis kind of hopes the pain from the tattoo makes Harry feel all the pain Louis’ been feeling for the past few months, but he thinks better of that very quickly. Harry’s no stranger to the pain, it even gets him going a bit, and he won’t feel anything that Louis’ feeling. 

Louis finishes the tattoo in under five minutes, and then Harry kisses him senseless.   
  


On Tuesday morning, Louis wakes up to a headache of his own and Harry puking into the toilet. Louis goes in to see him, crouching down next to him and running a hand through Harry’s hair. “I know you’re not gonna want to, but–”

“Work.” Harry groans, resting his cheek on the toilet seat. Louis nudges him and makes him pick his head up, because that’s  _ gross _ . “I know. I’m gonna die. But it’s fine. Now we’re done.” 

“You can hit the shower first. I’ll go downstairs and see what kind of breakfast I can conjure up for you that won’t make you keep puking your guts out.” Louis says, rubbing his back gently. “It’s all gonna be okay now.” 

“Aren’t you fucking miserable too?” Harry asks, looking up at him in awe.

“Very. But it’s fine. Get in the shower. When you come out, close the door so none of the heat gets lost before I go in.” Louis replies. “You’ve got this, H.” 

“I’d ask for you to kiss me, but I’m absolutely disgusting right now, so I’ll spare you.” Harry says, shooting Louis a small smile before Louis finally pulls himself out of the bathroom. 

All he finds for Harry is a breakfast bar, and that’ll have to do. He brings that and a bottle of water to the bathroom, where Harry’s still lathering his hair in the shower. “M’gonna brush my teeth, that okay?”

Harry hums his approval, looking at Louis through the door. “Can you pass me my toothbrush? I’m gonna kill two birds with one stone in here.” 

“I don’t condone brushing your teeth while in the shower, but you’re hungover, so I’ll grant it to you.” Louis dabs toothpaste on it before handing it to Harry through the shower door. They’re silent once they’re brushing their teeth, and Louis kind of thought it would feel weird but… it doesn’t. They finish getting ready, Louis slipping sunglasses on his nose as if it’ll stop the headache he’s got before they’re both out the door. 

“Call me if you need anything while you’re at work. I’m sure it’s gonna be a bitch for you today, and James will let me go if I tell him that you need me.” Louis says as they stand outside their building, getting ready to part ways. 

Harry rubs Louis’ chest, right over where that new half heart tattoo is, smiling softly. “I appreciate that. I can’t guarantee that I  _ will  _ call you, but I’ll heavily consider it.” 

“Okay. Because I could bring you lunch or painkillers or just about anything you think you need, so.” 

“You’re sweet. Thank you. I’ll see you at home later?” Harry asks. Louis nods in reply. Harry leans forward and kisses Louis gently, and Louis pulls him in for more. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, Haz. Have a good day,” Louis murmurs, kissing Harry one final time before Harry starts the few-block walk to his nonprofit and Louis crosses the street to their car. 

Louis worries about him a bit on the drive over, but soon starts to force himself to believe that Harry’s going to be just fine. Once Louis is inside Corden’s Law Offices, he doesn’t take his sunglasses off. It finally hits him, just how  _ miserably hungover  _ he really is, as soon as he isn’t checking up on Harry. 

He powers up the computer as Zayn comes through the door, laughing at the sight of Louis sitting there with his sunglasses still on. “Rough night last night, mate?” 

“Very rough. But, H is done now. He’s sweating out a nasty hangover and, once it kicks in, the withdrawal, over at the nonprofit with Simon and Ni.”

“So, what, you guys got shitfaced?” 

“Yup. And it was fun, don’t get me wrong. It was almost normal, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind; after we woke up in the morning and sobered up, we’d never drink like that again.” 

“You’re not…” Zayn pauses, looking like he’s trying to hide a small smile. “You’re not quitting with him, are you?” 

“God, no. Not unless that’s something he  _ needs  _ me to do in order to make it easier on him. It’s just his—” Louis’ cut off by his phone starting to vibrate on his desk. 

It’s Harry, so Louis’ concern goes right back up through the roof. “Hey, baby,” he answers smoothly, not wanting to let Harry in on the fact that he’s concerned. “Everything okay?” 

“Are you feeling as shitty as I am right now?” Harry asks, voice sounding muffled through the phone. 

“Yeah, love, I am. Are you doing alright? At least a little?” 

Harry makes an indifferent sounding noise. Louis laughs softly at him, even though it hurts his head and maybe his entire body. “I kind of feel like I’m dying, but… it’s fine. It’s gonna be okay. I have to suffer through it.” 

“Me too. I feel like I’ve got to puke or take a really big nap. Or both.” Louis replies, looking at Zayn, who’s still fucking lingering. “Let me know if you want me to bring you lunch or anything.” 

“I’d love it if you stopped by, but Simon’s pissed because I’m so miserable. And I’d probably end up puking lunch into the toilet here, so…” Harry trails off. 

“Well, I haven’t seen James yet, but I’m still wearing my sunglasses. The light hurts my eyes.” Louis admits, smiling just a bit. Zayn rolls his eyes at him, and Louis waves him away. 

“Let me know if you need me to hold your hair back while you puke in your trashcan!” Zayn calls over his shoulder snarkily. 

Louis throws the nearest object at Zayn — a pen — on his way out. Harry laughs softly on the other end of the line. “That Zayn?” 

“Yeah, he’s being a prick, as usual. Seriously, baby, let me know if you need anything. Or if you need me to call you and create some elaborate story to get Simon to let you go home early.” 

“Babe, if I need anything I’ll let you know. Would you just stop worrying about me? Please?” Harry pleads. 

Louis sighs heavily, nodding in defat even though Harry can’t see him. “I’ll try to stop worrying. Keep your head up, alright?” 

“Feels better if I keep it down, if I’m being honest.” Harry admits. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, H.” Louis replies, his hand unwillingly coming to rest over where Harry’s tattoo is. “I’m gonna hang up now. Don’t go puking into any toilets if you can help it.” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’ll try my best.” 

Louis hangs up after Harry says bye, and then he drops his head to his arms. After a few minutes he picks himself up and starts working, more planning for the case James has him slaving over. It makes his head hurt even more, and it’s especially bad when Louis has to call the courthouse and deal with an absolutely unbearable woman who won’t just tell Louis about the trial dates even though he assures her that he really is James Corden’s assistant attorney who  _ needs  _ to know. He gets it out of her eventually, thank god, but Louis isn’t happy about the fight the woman puts up.

James sticks his head in around six, after Louis’ gotten a text from Harry telling him that he was on his way home, and asks about Harry. “He’s just holding it together for work. I’m sure he looks and feels like shit, though.” Louis replies honestly. 

“So just like you, then?” James cracks a smile, and Louis rolls his eyes. At least he took his goddamn sunglasses off once his headache finally started to fade earlier. “You can go home. I don’t need you doing anything else for this case today. Give it a rest. Go home to your boy.” 

Louis sighs in relief. “Thank you.” 

“Tell him I hope he feels better.” 

“I will.” 

Louis drives home rather quickly, wanting to get to Harry as soon as possible. Inside, Louis finds him sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at their half-empty bottle of rum. “I’m just fucking staring at it. My mind is telling me to drink it, but I can’t make my hands move.” Harry says as soon as Louis appears in the doorway. 

Louis approaches slowly, like he’s trying not to wake the sleeping dragon, and grabs the bottle from the counter. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like shit,” Harry murmurs, looking up at him. “But I’m really trying not to drink it. Even though I know it’ll make me feel better almost immediately.” 

Louis puts the bottle by the sink, away from Harry, and comes over to feel his forehead. “You’re not hot but you’re… You feel like you’re sweating, how is that possible?” 

Harry shrugs. “I don’t have a fever. I’ve been using that thermometer more in the past few days more than we ever have. If I get a really bad fever then Google says there’s a problem and we should do something about it.” 

“Okay, so we’ll watch your temp. Is there anything I can do for you? Make you more… comfortable or something?” 

“ _ More comfortable _ . Y’make it sound like I’m dying. I might feel like I’m dying, but I’m really not.” Harry laughs softly, smiling a small smile up at Louis. “But online articles I read said that I should eat, like, fruits and stuff. I know that’s not your forte but—” 

“I can see what kind of healthy stuff we’ve got here. If there’s nothing then I’ll run out to the store and get whatever healthy foods you tell me that I should get,” Louis smiles back at him, kissing Harry’s forehead. “Go lay down. I’ll bring you something and some water, because we should keep you hydrated.” 

“Thank you. Love you.” 

Harry pushes himself up from the island and moves like molasses to the couch. Louis finds some various fruits and vegetables (apples, cucumbers, the works) and puts them on a plate for Harry before filling him a glass of water and bringing them both to the couch. “I might end up puking all of this up,” Harry says, sitting up. 

“I’ll clean all of it up, then.” Louis replies, sitting down next to him. “But you should at least try to get something in you.” 

Harry eats slowly, not even half of what’s on the plate, before leaning forward and putting it on the coffee table in front of them. “Here, love. Drink.” Louis murmurs, handing him the water next. 

“You should’ve been a doctor instead of a lawyer. Probably just as much school and probably just as expensive,” Harry says snarkily, taking a small sip. 

“I would’ve hated being a doctor. Too much, you know, sadness.” Louis replies. “But I am rather good at taking care of you, aren’t I? Everyone thinks it’s the other way around but… I like to think they’re wrong.” 

Harry laughs, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder and draping his leg over Louis’. “I  _ know  _ you didn’t just try to tell me that you’re taking care of me more than I look after you. I can’t even count on one hand the amount of times I have watched you puke or nursed your whiny ass through a cold or picked your laundry up off the floor—” 

Louis smacks him on the knee, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. I get it. I get it.” 

“You’re a terrible patient. And a terrible flatmate, sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” Harry says softly, grabbing Louis’ hand. “I love you. And I’m so, so glad I have you to go through this with.” 

“I love you too, Haz. And I can try to be a better flatmate.” Louis promises.

Harry tilts his face up for a kiss, which Louis grants him without question and without hesitation. Even when he pulls back, Harry pulls Louis back in for a deeper kiss. They makeout on the couch for a while, until Harry breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Louis’, breathing heavily. “You’re going to puke, aren’t you?” Louis jokes. 

Harry laughs softly, shaking his head and kissing Louis gently. “No. I was… I was  _ going  _ to ask if.” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I was going to ask if you wanted to fuck me.” 

“Harry.” Louis breathes out. “Are— are you sure?” 

Harry nods immediately, startling Louis just a bit. He  _ can’t  _ believe this is happening. He feels a bit like his head might explode, which is not unlike the first time Harry asked Louis to fuck him, and that was  _ years _ ago. “Yeah. I’m sure. I need to get my mind off of this detox, and… you’re still hot and I still want to fuck.” 

“You want to fuck to get your mind off of your detox?” 

“I want to fuck because I love you. And because I can’t even  _ remember  _ the last time I had your cock anywhere near me in this way. Because I love you. And I miss you and I feel like I’m ready. If you are.” 

Louis exhales heavily. Of  _ course _ he’s ready. “Fuck. Bedroom, now.” 

Soon after they’ve fucked and they’re cooling off, Harry pukes in the bathroom. Louis would move, but he feels sort of boneless, and Harry tends to yell at Louis for hovering, so he plays it safe. Harry comes back in a few minutes later, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Fucking gross. That was so unsexy,” Harry remarks, pulling on a pair of boxers (Louis’, and neither one of them is complaining). 

“You’re plenty sexy.” Louis tells him, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, blanket strewn haphazardly over his lower half. “Guess that was the fruit I made you eat, huh?”

Harry nods, crawling into his side of the bed. “Should totally change the sheets, but I really can’t be bothered. I just need to lay here and…”

“And?” Louis prompts. 

“Relax. Wallow.” 

_ “Wallow? _ Sex with me was that upsetting?” 

Harry shakes his head, eyes closed but reaching out to put a hand on Louis’ thigh. “I just need to lay here. I don’t feel like doing much else. If I fall asleep don’t wake me up until tomorrow morning when it’s time to go to work.” 

Louis kind of expects Harry to keep talking, at least for a little while, but he doesn’t. He falls asleep soon after he tells Louis not to wake him up, and that’s that. All of a sudden Louis is alone in their flat. He showers first and foremost, and then stands in front of the bed and wonders if there’s a way he could change the sheets without disturbing Harry. There’s not, of course there isn’t, Harry’s sprawled out in the middle of the bed and there’s no moving him. It’d be cruel. 

So Louis heads to the kitchen and clears out all of their cabinets and the fridge of any alcohol. He even grabs the margarita mix Niall insisted on bringing for Cinco de Mayo, despite the fact that the mix itself isn’t alcoholic. He grabs a cardboard box that he found holding photo albums behind the couch (it’d been there since Louis moved in, never touched). Louis leaves the albums on the coffee table and moves the alcohol into the box, before resting his hands on the counter and exhaling heavily. “We’re doing the right thing. This is the right thing to do,” he says, to the universe and to the empty flat but mostly to himself.

He leaves the box on the counter, going and sitting on the couch. It’s not even ten yet, but he feels more tired than he ever has. The photo albums are there, staring at him, and Louis knows exactly what’s in them. Harry went through a scrapbooking phase awhile back, before Louis moved in, and there’s tons of pictures of the adventures they had in their early dating years.

Against his better judgement, Louis reaches forward and picks up one of the albums. The very first picture inside it is Harry, with Louis and Zayn both pressing firm kisses to each of his cheeks. It was Harry’s eighteenth birthday, the shot glasses and birthday crown on his head signify that. It was before Louis and Harry even started dating. 

Louis flips the page, coming upon another picture of Louis, Harry, and Zayn, this time, Zayn the only one with his mouth pressed to Harry’s cheek. Harry’s smiling widely, laughing, and Louis is just sitting there  _ staring  _ at him, a smile of his own on his face. It’s a little blurry, and Louis can practically hear Niall complaining about all the movement and the fact that “the iPhone 4 isn’t built for shots like this”.

The further into the book he gets, the more  _ together  _ Harry and Louis become. It happens slowly, he watches their relationship unfold throughout the pages. The day Harry got an internship offer from Simon at the nonprofit just before his nineteenth birthday. The day Louis found out that he passed the bar exam. The day Zayn had his tattoo gun and they all smoked up and gave each other tattoos (everyone but Niall got one, Louis will never forget the shit they gave him that day). The day Harry crashed his motorcycle when he was twenty. There’s a picture of him in his hospital bed, one arm in a cast but other hand in a thumbs up, Louis next to him in the midst of a massive eye roll. Louis was  _ so  _ pissed at him that day. 

“Where’d you find those?” Harry asks suddenly. Louis turns his face up and looks, Harry standing behind the sofa. 

“I needed the cardboard box that they were in. It was behind the couch.” Louis replies, casting his gaze toward the kitchen, where the brown box is sitting on the counter.

“We should get rid of all of it.” Harry says decidedly. “Tomorrow night, maybe.” 

Louis nods in agreement. “Why aren’t you still sleeping?” 

Harry shrugs, sitting down next to him. He rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, pulling the album more into his own lap. “I hardly remember making these. It feels like ages ago.” 

“I know. Our entire lives together are in here. It’s strange.” 

Harry laughs softly, flipping the page. “Niall took so many fucking pictures of us. Before  _ and _ after we started dating. He was a bit of a perv about it, huh?”

“He was excited. Thought he knew what we were thinking before we even knew. But even when we  _ started  _ dating we kept it a secret for a while before telling any of the guys, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah, but they all kind of knew anyway. We weren’t exactly… subtle,” Harry says, pointing to one of the pictures. Louis has him pinned down, pressing kisses all over his face while Harry laughs, his head thrown back. 

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “No, I guess we weren’t very subtle.” he replies, closing the album. “Let’s go get back in bed, love. It’s getting late and we’ve both got to work tomorrow.” 

“Ugh, it’s only gonna be  _ Wednesday.”  _ Harry groans, pressing his face into Louis’ neck. “I’m not gonna make it through the fucking week.” 

Louis kisses the top of his head, smiling softly. “Oh, honey. You’ll make it through just fine.” 

********

where he makes his home - jason polley   
**there's a feeling i can't do this on my own.**

Louis stops by Harry’s office when James sends him out to run errands. Run errands means putting things in the post, stopping by the courthouse to push the restraining order through, and also stopping to see Harry. Louis thinks it’s going to be a fight to be let upstairs, but there isn’t, because he runs into Simon in the lobby. 

“Louis. Here to see Harry?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“Of course. Wanna let me up? Security officer always gives me a hard time with it.” Louis grins, glancing at the desk in the corner. 

Simon laughs and nods, and Louis joins him on the elevator without problem. “He’s been rather miserable for the past two days, I’m assuming you know why?” 

“Yeah, he’s just… you know, going through something. He’ll be alright by the end of the week, don’t worry.” Louis replies. And he believes it this time, is the thing. All the times he’s said Harry was going to be okay, he’s just been saying it to make himself or someone else feel better, but this time he’s not saying it to convince himself. He really, wholeheartedly believes that Harry’s going to get through it and be okay. 

“Okay. Well, don’t stay too long. He’s got work to do. Unless, of course, you want to lend your brain and legal abilities to us, then you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” 

“Always willing to help, you know that. And so is the entire Corden firm.” Louis tells him. The elevator dings and they step off, Simon going one way and Louis going the other. 

He pops his head around the corner of Harry’s little office, which doesn’t have a door because he has yet to reach that luxury, and clicks his tongue until Harry looks up. “Lou!” he exclaims, standing up immediately. “What are you doing here?” 

“James has me out doing shit for him, I figured I’d pay  _ you _ a visit this time.” Louis says. “Is that alright with you?” 

“Of course. I love when you come here. You flirt publicly with me and you flirt with everyone else and make them fall in love with you. It gets me brownie points.” Harry smiles. 

Louis laughs, coming around Harry’s desk and leaning against it. He pats his back pocket, feeling out his pack of cigarettes. “Do they let you smoke in here or is your office not as cool as mine?” he asks, looking down at him. 

“No, we’re not allowed to. And, you can’t smoke in _your_ office, either. What the hell are you on about?” Harry laughs. “It’s almost my lunch. We can go for a walk outside, if you need it that badly.” 

“Nope, I’m okay.” Louis shakes his head. “I saw Simon on my way up, he said that you’ve got work to do and I’m not allowed to stay for too long unless I’m helping.” 

Harry’s eyes light up then, and Louis thinks that’s the most excited he’s seen him get in awhile, especially while he’s been detoxing so hard since yesterday.  _ “Well,  _ if you want some work to do, I know someone you can meet.” 

“That girl you told me about when you visited me at work on Monday?” Louis asks, despite already knowing. 

_ “Brynn.” _ Harry corrects, already standing up. “She should be on her lunch break right now, we could try to find her.” 

Louis laughs, nodding. “Okay, love, bring me to her. I’ll talk to her if she wants to talk. But I  _ am  _ a virtual stranger to her, I’m not sure how keen she’ll be about talking to me about her… situation.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Louis’ following him. He sticks his head over a cubicle before saying anything else. “She’s not at her desk. She might be in the break room. And, I talk about you so much that she practically knows you, babe. I told her that you’d help, too, so… you’re not a  _ complete  _ stranger.” 

“You talk about me to your work friends?” Louis asks, voice softer and more fond than he expected it to be. “Baby, slow down  _ please,  _ you seem like you’re coked up.” 

Harry laughs, and then he stops walking suddenly, turning around to look at Louis. “Of course I talk to them about you, Lou. This is the break room.” he says, opening the door. There’s a young girl, probably about their age, sitting at the table looking at her phone. “Brynn! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“Can’t finish a project or something, Hazzabear? Need me to fix something for you?” Brynn asks teasingly. Louis likes her immediately. 

_ “No. _ You remember me talking about Louis, right? My boyfriend?” Harry asks her. Brynn looks up at the two of them. 

_ “You’re  _ the infamous Louis, then? The one who’s swept poor Harry off his feet. And the one who can help me out.” She stands up and extends her hand to him, which Louis shakes. “I’m Brynn.”

“I would be Louis, yes. And I can  _ try  _ and help you with your case, I’m sure Harry reiterated that point to you.” 

“I mean, he tried, I heard the words  _ might  _ and  _ try  _ in there somewhere. But he also really talks you up quite a bit. The phrases  _ best lawyer in the universe  _ and  _ try to help you  _ really contradict each other,” Brynn quips, looking at Harry. “He told you about what happened?” 

Louis glances at Harry, who’s hiding a smile behind his hand, before looking back at Brynn. “In… vague terms. The gist I got was defamation?” 

“Yeah. It’s kind of awful, your parents are supposed to support you and all, but I’m not surprised. We sort of hate each other at this point. I don’t  _ want  _ to go to court, but I said some pretty bad shit about them, and vice versa, and they’re not too happy about it.”

Louis pulls his wallet from his pocket and finds a business card of James’ that he keeps handy for situations just like this. “Got a pen, babe?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at Harry. 

Before Harry can find one, Brynn produces one from the table behind her and hands it to him. “On the front is the number for Corden’s Law Offices. The back is my cell number – which, of course, Harry has if you lose it for some reason – and my extension at the office, as well as my email. All of which Harry has.” he says, writing while speaking to her. “If you could text me or email me any details that could help or hurt your side of the argument, that’d be great. Has your parents’ lawyer reached out to you yet?” 

“Yeah. They gave…” Brynn trails off, picking up her phone. From the sleeve on the back she produces a similar-looking business card. “They gave me this. Number for their office, I guess. They said to call so we could all meet, but I didn’t want to without at least  _ talking  _ to a lawyer so I knew what the hell I was walking into.” 

Louis nods, pocketing the card. “Once I look over everything I’ll set up a meeting. Let me know when works best for you.” 

“Oh, I could never afford–” 

Louis shakes his head and cuts her off. “Free of charge. It’s me, not James. It’s a favor. But, if Harry’s been talking me up as much as you say, then I’m sure he’s told you I’m a kick ass lawyer. Even when I’m off the books.” 

Brynn’s expression softens to a smile, looking overly relieved. “He has. Thank you  _ so  _ much, Louis. I really, really appreciate it. I just really want all of this to be over.” 

“I’m gonna do everything I can.” Louis promises, because that’s really the best he can promise her at the moment. Maybe after he has some more information he can promise a bit more, but even then, there’s only so much he can truly guarantee. 

They leave Brynn to her lunch break, but not before she hugs both him and Harry. “I told you they all adore you,” Harry says, sitting down at his desk.

“Well, how could they not? Especially when you talk about how I’ve  _ swept you off your feet  _ and use words like  _ best lawyer in the universe _ to describe me?” 

“You  _ know  _ I talk about you to people.” Harry drones like he’s annoyed, but Louis knows he’s really just a little embarrassed and a  _ lot  _ proud. 

Louis smiles. He does his fair share of talking about Harry, to just about anyone who will listen, no matter where he goes. Any time he gets the opportunity to say “my boyfriend”, Louis doesn’t pass it up. He can’t wait for the words to become “my fiancé” or “my husband”, but he thinks they should get over one hurdle before running to the next. 

“I know.” Louis says finally. He feels like he hasn’t stopped smiling since he entered Harry’s building, and he can’t believe how wonderful that is. How different it is from the past few months. “I talk about you too. Just so we’re even.” 

Harry laughs. “Thank you for talking to Brynn. It means a lot to both myself and her. Especially her.” 

“I’ll do what I can, baby, get them to back off.” Louis replies. He goes to say something else, ask Harry if he wants to grab lunch or something, but his phone dings in his pocket. “Ah, shit. It’s James, wondering where I am. I guess I’d better head back, then.” 

He shoots a reply to James, telling him that he’ll be back soon, and then reaches out to touch Harry’s forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever anymore, that’s good. And you don’t really look as shit as you did before, so. Are you feeling better? You seem better.” 

“A little. You cheered me up quite a bit. And I stopped puking for the most part, just feel… uneasy. It’s getting better. I still don’t feel  _ right,  _ but I’m getting through it.” Harry tells him, smiling. “You should get going. Don’t want James mad at you.” 

Louis bends down and kisses him gently on the lips, just once, murmurs bye, and leaves the office before Harry can grab at his arse, because Louis knows he’ll try to. He smokes the cigarette he wanted when he first stepped into Harry’s office on his way back over to Corden, and then goes back into work feeling even more refreshed than he ever has. 

He finishes out his day by writing up James’ opening statement for one of their cases. Once the clock hits five,  _ gloriously _ hits five, he packs up and sticks his head in to say bye to James before driving himself home. He’s getting his keys out as he gets to the door, but Harry’s already there with his own key in the door. 

“You’re home early,” Harry says excitedly, watching as Louis abandons his search for his flat key. “Why are you home early?” 

“I’m done with the opening statements and I could go. James didn’t protest, so I left. You gonna open the door or what?” 

“What? Oh, yeah. Door. I was going to make dinner, have anything specific in mind?” Harry asks, holding the door open for Louis. 

Louis shrugs. “Whatever you want is fine, love. I love just about anything you cook.” 

Harry gasps, pretending to be scandalized. He slides his shoes off and then turns around to look at Louis. “You mean you don’t love  _ everything?  _ What don’t you like?” he asks with a frown. 

“Not very fond of fish dishes.” Louis admits thoughtfully, hooking a finger in the belt loop of Harry’s jeans and pulling him closer. 

“But you love sushi!” Harry exclaims, sounding exasperated. Louis laughs, kissing Harry’s cheek. “Well, tonight it’ll be simple. Pasta with garlic and olive oil. Maybe some leftover meat of some sort that hasn’t gone bad, but that’s probably wishful thinking. Plus I don’t want to put too much effort into a meal I might end up puking up.” 

Louis kisses his lips next, breaking out into a grin. “Mhm. Sounds fine to me. Simple is great. Anything I can do for you?” 

Harry shakes his head. “I’m gonna get started on dinner, I’m starving. Maybe after we eat we can get rid of that alcohol?” 

“I thought I’d text Niall and get him to take it off our hands. He loves booze, especially free booze. And then at least we’re not, you know, wasting it.”

“Yeah, perfect. Just do that.” Harry nods decidedly. Louis still doesn’t release him. “It’s like… donating to charity.” 

Louis laughs, pulling him in for a slow kiss. Harry breaks apart after a moment, pressing a final kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Go get started. I’m gonna text Niall and see if Brynn emailed me anything yet.” 

“Oh, good!” Harry says, sounding relieved. “Do  _ that.” _

Louis texts Niall about the liquor, and he answers very quickly, happily taking it off their hands. By the time he’s checking his emails, Harry hollers that dinner is finishing up and it’ll be ready momentarily. “Do you–” Harry starts from the kitchen, but instead stops and comes over to Louis at the couch. “Do you want a beer or something with dinner? You can, I don’t mind.” 

“Oh, no, H. I’m good. Really.” Louis answers quickly, maybe a little  _ too  _ quickly, judging by the wary look on Harry’s face. 

“I’d be able to handle it, you know. If you did want a beer or a glass of wine.” 

“Maybe we’ll wait until you’re off the detox before we reintroduce alcohol? Even just to the people around you. I don’t want it to fuck with your head,” Louis says honestly. He’s done being passive. He’s done hiding his thoughts and feelings and opinions about this from Harry. 

Harry nods. “Yeah, no, of course. That makes sense. Dinner will be ready in a few. You just want to eat on the couch?” 

“Yeah, might as well. Brynn emailed me a few things, documents and such. I’ve gotta look through them.” Louis replies. “I really want to help her. Meeting Brynn today, it really… I dunno.” 

“It hits you, right?” Harry asks, coming into the living room with two plates of pasta. “Here, babe. Eat up, gotta keep you energized to make sure you put your best work into this case.” 

Louis sets his computer aside in favor of taking the plate from Harry. He digs right in, moaning in bliss at the taste of the food. “Babe, you realize that there’s, like, three components to this dish and you definitely don’t have to act like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever eaten.”

He laughs, looking over at Harry. “I know. The best thing I’ve ever eaten is still that weird French dish you made when we were in Paris a few years back. But this is pretty damn good too. Like I said, just about anything you make is good.” 

Harry leans over and kisses Louis on the cheek. “Thank you. Nobody appreciates my cooking as much as you do. Makes me feel great, even when the food is actually shitty.” 

“You’re a great cook. You spoil me half the time.” Louis shrugs. He takes another few forkfuls before grabbing the laptop again, opening the PDF that Brynn sent him. “Mhm. It’s the filing suit from her parents’ lawyer.” 

Harry leans over, looking at what Louis pulled up on the screen. “Anything good?” 

“Not necessarily, but it’s helpful. Quote, ‘made abusive and outlandish claims of her family and childhood’. They’re really gonna try to push it, you know.” Louis murmurs, scrolling further down. “Quote, ‘no claims that Brynn Carson has made are true. The family denies any involvement in the acts or words she claims occurred.’ They’re filing for defamation and want her to ‘rectify any damages done to the family name’.” 

“What’s that mean?”

“Means they don’t agree with what she said, that it’s all lies that are hurting their reputation, and they want her to make up any money that they happen to lose as a result. They might run with it, take it all the way to court. I can’t believe they’d  _ want  _ to go to court, could bring on some bad press. But I should really ask James about it, see what he says to do.” 

“Or you could just go with your gut.” 

“My gut says that it might be going to court, and that I want to help her, but I can’t do that unless James clears it. I’ll still try to keep the money out of it, tell him I want it to be pro-bono or something.” 

Harry nips at Louis’ earlobe, humming low in his throat. “Mhm, I love when you use lawyer terms.”

Louis laughs, reaching over and squeezes Harry’s thigh. “Oh, do you?” 

“Mhm. Quid pro quo. Habeas corpus. In loco parentis.” Harry drones, sticking his tongue out to lick Louis’ neck before biting gently. 

“You’re just saying the most latin words you know,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“But it’s working, isn’t it? How about we have a little… quid pro quo for ourselves right now?” Harry asks, shutting Louis’ laptop and sliding it off his lap. Louis groans softly, turning his body into Harry and letting arousal take over.

After his detour across Harry’s body, Louis stays up late reading the information Brynn sent him and researching familial clauses and restrictions. Long after Harry’s gone to bed and Louis is still staring at his computer screen, his phone rings, Anne’s caller ID coming up. “Hi, Anne.” he says, rubbing his eyes. 

“Hi, love. How are you? I didn’t think I’d catch you this late.” Anne replies. “Are you with Harry?” 

“He went to bed a while ago. I’m researching something that he asked me to look into.” 

“How’s… How’s he doing? With the whole…” Anne trails off, clearly expecting Louis to fill in. 

“Detox? Coping with alcoholism and its effects?” Louis does fill in, maybe a little harshly. “He was really bad on Tuesday, and for part of the day today. But he’s slowly getting back in the groove. I don’t think he’s thrown up since last night, so that’s a plus.” 

“And how are  _ you  _ doing? We’ve got to worry about that, too, you know.” 

“I’m… alright. Harry should be the main concern. I’m doing fine with it. It sucks, having to watch him go through this. And it’s gonna hurt when I watch Niall walk away with all of our alcohol. But I’m doing okay.” 

“You’re doing okay with it, _ it _ being Harry, but how are you doing with everything else?” 

Louis knows she means  _ everything else  _ as in losing his mum, and just the thought of talking about it is enough to make Louis’ eyes well up with tears. “I’m, uh. That’s still really fucking hard. It’s awful, actually. It’s been, like, eight months and I still… I feel like I’m just looking for her everywhere, you know? And dealing with that on top of all this shit with H, it’s hard.”

“I do know, Lou. And I know you miss her. It’s awful.”

“I just know that she would know exactly what to do. And, not that you don’t, not that I don’t love talking to you, but…” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “Sometimes I just really wish she could be here. That I could talk to her. Because she knew me better than I know myself, maybe even better than Harry does. And I think that talking to her would… I dunno. It just felt like she could solve all of my problems without even trying.” 

Anne sighs. “I know, my love. It feels like that’s all I can say to you.” 

“I know. It feels like that’s all I’ve been saying, too. And she probably would have known something other than those two words to say but—” 

“Lou?” Harry’s voice fills the living room suddenly, and Louis turns around. “Are you… are you on the phone?” 

“Yeah, baby, it’s uh… it’s your mum.” Louis replies. 

Harry furrows his eyebrows, rubbing his left eye with his hand. “You’re talking to my mum? This late?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah, I’m just—” Louis pauses talking to Harry to direct his attention back to Anne. “H just woke up, we can… talk soon?” 

“Of course, Lou. Talk to Harry, too, okay?” 

“Yeah, I will. G’nite, Anne.” 

They hang up, Louis dropping his phone on the couch next to him and looking up at Harry. “Why’re you up again? Trouble sleeping?” 

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, a bit. Plus I heard you talking out here. Thought it might be a work call, but you… what do you talk about with my mum?” 

Louis takes a deep breath, quickly swiping under his eyes with his thumb. He feels like Harry knows that he’s crying, it’s just a matter of time before he says something about it. “You, sometimes. Sometimes me. Sometimes my mum. Sometimes she talks about herself.” Louis replies honestly. 

“You were talking about your mum just now, right?” Harry asks, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, a bit. I’m okay, though. It’s alright.” 

Harry reaches forward and wipes a tear from Louis’ cheek, looking at him sadly. “It’s not alright. You have to stop saying that everything is okay, even when it’s not.” 

“I know. I feel like I do that all the time, but… sometimes I think if I say it enough, things will actually be okay.”

Harry keeps his hand on Louis’ cheek, thumbing lightly over his cheekbone and making Louis feel surprisingly better, somehow. “You always do that. Remember when I argued that I was the one that took care of you? That everyone was right when they said I was the one who took care of everything? That’s not true. I pick up your socks and make you dinner and plug your phone in when you forget and I always make up a calendar for you because I know you’re shit at remembering when we have what. But you… I would be nothing if I didn’t have you. You’re the realest person I know, Lou. You always know the right thing to say. And even if sometimes you’re a little pessimistic, you  _ always  _ try to be optimistic when it comes to me.”

Louis tries to look away from him, but Harry’s hand on Louis’ face prevents him from looking anywhere else. “Lou.” Harry murmurs. “My sweet, beautiful Lou. You always try to do right by me and you always,  _ always _ do. I’m so in love with you it’s insane. I might do the washing up but you’re… you’re always being supportive. And you’re always trying to keep your head up for  _ my _ sake. And, baby, you don’t always have to. You lost your mum, and I’ve been putting you through hell and that’s so fucking much to handle. You’re allowed to, you know, break down.” 

“I—” Louis tries, but cuts off. “I don’t know how  _ not _ to.” 

“Not to what, love? Save face?” 

Louis forces himself away finally, away from Harry’s touch, and looks elsewhere, up towards the ceiling like he can stop his tears from falling. “Seeing you like that was so hard, watching you get taken away from me. Seeing you right next to me but feeling like you were so insanely far from me. Seeing you like that was  _ so _ hard for me. Because I love you so fucking much and after—after I lost my mum, you were all I had left besides my sisters, but they don’t know me like you do. And once I finally started to get out of that hole after losing my mum, which really wasn’t until, like, May, you lost Robin and you got in your own… hole. All I could do was put on a brave face and try to be there for you.” 

Harry’s hand finds Louis’ face again, brushing hair behind his ear. “I love you so much.” he murmurs, looking at Louis carefully. “You’re not going to lose me too, I promise you that. I’m going to be here to annoy you and clean up after you for a long, long time.”

Louis takes a shaky breath, trying to let a laugh escape at the end of it but not finding much success. “I want you to. And I just— yeah, sometimes I try to save face. Because I’ve always been… the least, I dunno,  _ emotional  _ out of the two of us— and that’s not a jab at you. I love how honest and revealing you are, you know that I do, I think everybody knows that I do. But that was always more your show. The whole… heart on your sleeve gig. I always keep my head up and stay  _ realistic  _ about things, I save face and stay strong for you because I know sometimes you fall apart and that’s  _ okay.  _ But, yeah, I guess I don’t really know how to be the one that, you know, isn’t the okay one.”

“I know that’s what you do, baby. And not a day has gone by that I don’t notice it or appreciate it. But I want you to know that you don’t always  _ need  _ to. And I know this is going to go in one ear and out the other because you’re the most stubborn person I know, but… I’m trying really hard here, Lou, and I know you have been too, but you don’t always need to be strong for me like that. This is all me, babe, all my own problem to fix and you don’t need to clean up this mess. You need to cope with your mum’s death and you… yeah. Don’t always need to save face, my love.”

That’s when Louis  _ feels it.  _ He feels the months of pent up emotions; the sadness and the grief and the anger all wash over him at once. And he cries, and Harry holds him, because that’s all he can do. Everything hits him; how sad he was about losing his mum, how much he absolutely hated everything about that, how fucking empty he felt. He gets hit with how worried he was about Harry, how fucking terrified he was of losing him to the drinking. All of it — every bad thing, every time after losing Robin that Harry broke down, every time Louis was late to work because he was nursing Harry through a hangover, every time one of his sisters called him crying over the loss of their mum. 

“Okay.” he says finally, voice still shaking as he pulls his face out of Harry’s neck. “Okay, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Harry wipes Louis’ cheeks, giving Louis a chance to see the tears on Harry’s own cheeks. “My love, please don’t cry over me. I fucking hate it when we cry over each other,” Louis laughs, sniffling. 

“Can we just… can we just go upstairs now? I’m ready to sleep.” Harry says, standing up and extending his hands to Louis to pull him up. “Love, let’s go to bed.” 

Louis nods, wiping his cheeks again before taking Harry’s hands. Harry pulls him in close, kissing him softly on the lips before kissing his forehead. “I love you,” Louis murmurs. “Love you so much.”

Harry presses his lips to his forehead again. “Love you, too.” 

********

On Saturday afternoon, Harry comes through the door from his shopping trip with a six pack of Louis’ go-to beer. Louis is alarmed immediately, but tries not to key Harry into that. He stays focused on the files on his computer. 

“Here,” Harry says, holding one of the bottles out to Louis. “I picked these up. Saw it and thought of you, know it’s your favorite.” 

Louis takes it warily, looking at Harry carefully. “You bought beer?” 

“Got carded for it, too. Guess I really am still looking youthful as ever.” Harry smiles. “My mum wants to meet us for dinner, you up for it?” 

Louis glances at the clock before nodding. “Oh, uh. Yeah. A little last minute, innit, love?” 

“I know, she just called me while I was out at the store. She wants to buy us dinner, so that’s a plus.” Harry says, sitting down next to him. “Looking at Brynn’s stuff?” 

“Mhm. I brought it up to James yesterday, so he should be looking at shit too.” Louis replies. His left hand is still holding the beer; he’s kind of afraid to open it up. 

Harry reaches over, upon seeing Louis looking at it, and takes it from him. He opens it and tosses the cap on the table before handing it back to Louis. “I wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t think I could handle watching you drink it, babe.” 

Louis nods, then hesitantly takes a sip. “It’s been a week, that one beer gonna get you fucked up?” Harry asks jokingly, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder.

_ “No.  _ I don’t know if you know me or not, but I have a rather high tolerance — especially when it comes to beer.” Louis says snarkily. “You can still drive to meet your mum, though, if you want to.” 

“Sure, I’ll drive. I feel like you always drive. We both pay for the car, you know.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the beer. “I do know. I’ll never forget the day we merged all of our finances and you nearly came in your pants when I handed you the card for the joint account.” 

“You’re over-exaggerating. I did  _ not.”  _ Harry laughs. 

Louis  _ knows _ he did, to some extent; Harry’s always gone nuts over the whole  _ domestic, in a relationship  _ thing and he never hides that from anyone. Sure, Louis says ‘my boyfriend, Harry’ in any sentence he possibly can, but Harry’s always been on a whole different level. Harry always rambles to any willing (and unwilling) party about the chores he does or how he and Louis looked at bills and bank statements over the weekend or how he always tries to get home before Louis so he can be making dinner. Louis can hardly even criticize him for it anymore, because he was supposed to be a bachelor for life; nobody expected Louis to get tied down at the age of twenty — but he found Harry and he fell in love with him and falling into that domestic lifestyle came like second nature. 

“What time should we go meet your mum?” Louis asks, instead of teasing Harry more about his domesticity streak. 

Harry hums indifferently. “In, like, a half hour? She wants to go to that sushi place.” 

“Mhm, I love sushi.” Louis groans approvingly, shutting his laptop. “I’m gonna go get ready, come with?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, but stands up with Louis anyway. “I know you do, that’s probably why she picked it. You don’t have to dress up, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not.” 

Harry laughs at him, sitting down on the bed and watching Louis as he opens the closet door. “How’s this?” Louis asks, showing him a charcoal grey shirt. 

“You look good in  _ just about  _ anything,” Harry says whimsically, leaning over to put Louis’ beer on the bedside table. 

Louis laughs, knowing that Harry’s pulling a line right from Louis’ book. “Just about? What  _ don’t  _ I look good in?” 

Harry tips his head back for a moment, humming in thought. “I dunno, actually. I’d say those leather pants that you borrowed from Zayn on Halloween last year, but even those you somehow managed to pull off. Cargo shorts aren't a great look, I suppose. Though that rule applies to any man under, I dunno, fifty.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, pulling his current tee shirt off and swapping it for the grey one. “These jeans or different jeans?” 

When he looks at Harry again, Harry’s biting his lip and looking at Louis in  _ that  _ way, the way that always revs Louis up and makes him  _ want  _ at the most inappropriate times. “Those jeans. Your thighs look great in ‘em.” 

It only takes three seconds for Louis to get over to the bed, and it takes another two for Harry to have Louis’ new grey shirt off and on the floor. 

“My mum’s gonna yell at us.” Harry says, adjusting himself in his pants before opening the door. “Just tell her you got caught up with work stuff.” 

“Not that I was trying to get ready and you’re just so fucking…  _ irresistible  _ that I couldn’t keep my hands off of you?” Louis asks, grabbing Harry by the belt loop before he even gets the chance to turn around and shut the door. 

Harry lets out a soft groan, reaching behind Louis to pull the door shut. “You’ve gotta stop now. You know it’s not hard for me to go a second time.”

Louis smiles, kissing Harry’s neck gently. “C’mon, let’s go. I’ll drive.” 

“Good idea. Y’make me go cross-eyed and floaty sometimes and it’s not good for driving.” 

Louis laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Come on, love.” 

Louis drives, as promised, listening to Harry’s directions to the restaurant. Anne is already sitting inside, looking down at her small wrist watch, but she smiles as soon as she sees the boys walk in. 

“Finally, thought you two were going to stand me up.” Anne jokes, kissing Harry’s cheek. “How are you doing?” 

“We’re alright. Lou’s been really busy with work lately, he’s looking into something for that girl, Brynn, that I told you about from my job, remember her?” 

“Ah, yes, the situation you described to me in the absolute most vague terms possible.” Anne says, rolling her eyes. “Well, good, I’m glad that he’s able to help you, then.” 

Louis nods in agreement. “It’s kind of a mess, but I’ve got James looking at it too, so between the two of us I think we’ll be able to figure it out.” he says, shrugging. “We don’t have to talk about that, though, boring and kind of sad work stuff.” 

“You know what? I’m gonna run to the loo, I didn’t go before we left and now mum’s drinkin’ that water and it’s making me think about it. If they come before I’m back, can you order me the steak fries and a caesar salad?” Harry asks, looking over at Louis. He never fucking orders sushi at a restaurant where they  _ specialize  _ in sushi (he’ll end up eating Louis’ right off his plate and Louis won’t say a damn word). 

He nods, and Harry kisses him on the cheek in thanks, and then he’s gone from the table. Anne leans forward immediately, like she’s about to get the hottest scoop from her son’s boyfriend now that her son has left. “How are you two  _ really  _ doing?” 

“We’re… good.” Louis feels surprisingly comfortable in saying that; it feels entirely true. “It feels normal again. We’re not fighting and we’re not, you know, not-talking like we used to. It’s been almost a full week since Harry stopped altogether and it’s already looking… better. I know it’s a long road from here, but…” 

“So you’ll make it, then? You’ll stay together?” 

“I don’t plan on going anywhere. I never planned on leaving him.” Louis says. And, suddenly, randomly, he figures now is a good time as any. “I want… I want to marry him, Anne. I haven’t brought it up to him yet, but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now, really. It’s been a bit since we discussed it. But I’m still thinking about it.” 

Anne’s face lights up, smile spreading across her lips. “Oh, Louis. I adore you. I love you and I trust you with my son, among countless other things. You know you don’t even have to  _ ask  _ me for permission, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

Louis laughs, looking down at his glass of water. “I guess that’s what I’m kind of trying to do. But, yeah, it’s something I’ve been thinking about — something I really want to do.” 

“Lou, baby.” Anne breathes out, eyes flitting behind him, looking for Harry. “I know that’s something you want to do. And I think that’s what he wants, too. I  _ know  _ that’s something he wants. I could do some digging, see if he drops any clues.” 

“Oh, he’s always dropping hints.” Louis laughs. “I just have to pick… the right time. Maybe when we’re a bit more removed from all of this.” 

They quickly change the topic of conversation when Anne spots Harry coming back from the bathroom, and Harry jumps right into the discussion without sensing anything suspicious. This is vastly different than the last time the three of them ate together — Harry’s miserable lunch before they’d talked anything out — and Louis’ so fucking glad things are  _ finally  _ looking up. 

Harry drives on the way home, and as soon as they’re inside the flat, he’s pushing Louis against the nearest wall and kissing him within an inch of his life. 

********

“What’re you reading?” Louis asks, leaning against the counter. 

Harry holds up his magazine —  _ Instyle Weekly —  _ and puts it back down again. “Stupid gossip rags. Famous people really get a lot of shit. D’you want me to make dinner?”

“Nah, I’m okay for now. We could eat later, unless you’re hungry now.” 

“We can wait. Have you heard anything from James about Brynn’s case?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t tell you?” Louis asks, suddenly feeling very guilty. His heart drops, his body wants armor up for the next argument. 

Harry frowns, closing the magazine and looking up. “No?” 

“He’s picking up her case. I’ve been writing up drafts of opening statements and arguments for a few days now. I really didn’t mention that to you?”

Harry shakes his head, but he doesn’t look upset about it, instead he looks  _ relieved.  _ “That’s so great. Are you— do you get to work it? Or is James going to take the lead?” 

“Nah, babe, this is all me. He said that I was the one who had to fix it because I was the one who it was brought to in the first place. It’s pro bono, so she doesn’t have to worry about the money.”

“Baby, that’s incredible! Your first big,  _ solo _ case!” Harry exclaims, standing up from the island and coming over to Louis. “We should celebrate! I should make dinner right fucking now, the biggest, best dinner you’ve ever had.” 

Louis laughs, letting Harry kiss him immediately. “I don’t need some fancy dinner. Just need you. You’ll come watch me, yeah? In the courtroom?If it ends up there, I mean” 

“Of  _ course.  _ You? In a suit? Being all commanding and lawyer-y? Of course I’ll be there.” 

Louis laughs again, Harry kissing a line from his lips down to his neck. “I figured. I love you so fucking much, you know?” 

“I love you too. Now I want to fuck really, really badly, and I don’t want to deal with the mess it’ll make in here.” 

That’s how the rest of Louis’ night goes. When Harry’s relaxing in bed after they’ve fucked and showered (both very, very thoroughly), Louis finally checks his phone. There’s a link to an article from James, something about Brynn’s family, and a text from Anne, asking about how Harry’s doing. He doesn’t answer either, feels like it’ll take them out of this bubble they’ve found themselves in. 

“Who texted?” Harry asks, rolling over on his side and propping himself up on an elbow. 

“James and your mum.” 

“Hm. Maybe I should talk to her more, so she stops chatting you up so much.” Harry says thoughtfully, laughing. “C’mere, I wanna cuddle.” 

Louis goes into Harry’s open arms immediately, his head resting on the center of Harry’s chest. Harry kisses the top of Louis’ head, pulling him in even tighter. “I love you,” Harry murmurs. 

“Love you too, H.” Louis replies, dropping a gentle kiss to the heart tattoo on his chest. 

In the morning, Louis drives Harry to work because he doesn’t feel like walking. “Will you find out when the first court appearance is?” Harry asks, leaning against the car.

“Yes, baby, as soon as I find out when it is, I’ll text you.” Louis replies, leaning further over the passenger seat. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Mhm.” Harry hums, nodding. “Kiss?” 

“If you lean closer?” Louis suggests, now leaning as far over as he can. Harry grants it, leaning through the window to peck Louis on the mouth. “Love you. Have a great day.”

“You too, babe.” Harry blows him one final kiss before walking into the building. 

Louis is two minutes late walking into his office. James is waiting at his desk. “I thought you weren’t late anymore,” he remarks, but there’s a big smile on his face and he knows that he’s not really in trouble.

“I’m not. I think  _ you, _ of all people, have seen my journey into being a prompt individual. But, I was dropping H off at work, so I’ve got a valid excuse.”

“Damn, I thought he was the one that was making you all punctual and shit.” 

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “It probably was him, yeah. But today it was  _ all _ his fault.” 

“How’s he doing?” 

“It’s been going really well, actually. I’m… he’s doing great.” 

James smiles at him, nodding. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” 

“So am I. It’s really great. He’s doing really well.” Louis says, nodding. 

“And how’s your prep for the case Harry found you going? I would like to assume you’re working hard?” James muses, like he wants to have just the slightest doubt in Louis but not really finding any.

“Of course. I’m finding out appearance dates today, and I’ve gotta let H know because he wants to see me argue in court.” 

James smiles. “Of course he does. When you find out, let me know. I’ll come be  _ your  _ assistant arguer for a change.” 

_ “Assistant arguer.”  _ Louis laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll list you as such on any paperwork, then? And I will let you know.” 

James leaves him, eventually, after a little more small talk (wife, kids, holidays, the works), and Louis gets right to work. He calls Brynn’s family’s lawyer around ten and finds that they’ve set a negotiation date for this upcoming Friday, which they didn’t seem too inclined to tell Louis or Brynn about. Louis doesn’t make a scene over the phone, just tucks it into his back pocket to use as ammunition later. 

Louis picks up his cell to call Harry once he finds out the appearance date. He answers on the last ring, Louis starts to wonder what he was keeping him from answering the phone, but quickly remembers  _ work, priorities, obligations.  _ “Hi, babe,” Harry answers breathlessly, like he ran to pick up. “You found out the date?” 

Louis laughs softly, sitting back in his chair. “Yeah, baby. It’s this Friday, the family’s team seemed like they were going to sit on that information until Brynn missed the meeting, so that’s kind of fucked up, but we know about it now and we will be there in full force.” 

Harry hums disapprovingly. “That is fucked up. I’ll talk to Simon and get the day off.” 

“Baby, this isn’t even in front of a judge, you probably can’t even come into the room with me.” Louis says, but Harry starts talking over him before Louis’ even finished his sentence. 

“I’ll just sit outside the room, then. I just wanna be there for you.” Harry says confidently. “I’ll only get the morning off, if you think it won’t take long.”

Louis can’t help the smile that works its way back onto his face. Having Harry there will probably put Louis’ confidence through the roof, and he’ll probably kick ass in front of Brynn’s parents and their lawyers. Harry tends to make Louis want to do really, really well. It’s the whole supportive boyfriend thing. It really works wonders. 

“Sounds good, babe. Let me know what Simon says. Make sure you really gas me up to him.” Louis says smartly, even though he knows Harry will brag about him anyway. It’s the whole supportive boyfriend thing. “I’ll talk to you later, love. Have a good day, yeah?” 

“I’ll try my absolute best.” Harry replies, sounding like he’s smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Haz.”

When Louis gets home later, it’s to music playing loudly from the kitchen and Harry singing prettily with it — _You’re_ _Still The One,_ the Shania Twain song. Harry grew up on Shania, thanks to Anne, and he always carried it with him, thus transferring it to Louis. Louis can’t count on one hand the amount of times Harry’s put on an impromptu concert for him, belting out Shania and Beyoncé and Celine. Anne loved the female power ballads, Louis doesn’t think that’s a crime. 

Harry’s wearing only sweats, slung low on his hips, a pair of Louis’ because when is Harry not stealing Louis’ clothes? “Hi, baby,” Louis greets, putting a hand on Harry’s hip. 

Harry doesn’t stop cooking, doesn’t even stop singing, but he turns his cheek for a kiss, which Louis grants him. “ _ We beat the odds together, I’m glad we didn’t listen, look at what we would be missing!”  _ Harry sings joyously, grin on his face. He pauses, letting Shania take the beginning of the chorus, to greet Louis properly. “I’m making mac and cheese. Homemade, obviously. There’s beer in the fridge for you, it’ll be a few more minutes so you can…  _ unwind, _ if you want.” 

Louis smiles at him, feeling love and warmth take him over easily. “Sounds great, baby.” 

“The dinner or my singing?” Harry asks cheekily, looking back down at the stovetop. 

“Both, and you know it.” Louis winks, turning to the fridge and grabbing one of the aforementioned beers. “How was work?” 

“It wasn’t bad, actually. Simon said I can come in whenever on Friday, so I’ll come with you, if you’ll still have me.” 

Louis pushes himself up on the counter, crossing his ankles and using his hand in his shirt to crack open the beer bottle. “Of course I’ll have you. Might get a little boring for you, but I’d love to have you there. Moral support and all that.” 

Harry turns the oven off, presenting a hot dish filled with mac and cheese that looks fucking delicious. Shania has changed to Ed Sheeran,  _ Barcelona,  _ off the new album, and Harry turns it down. “Could you get plates and stuff? We’re eating at the table tonight. We’ve had enough meals on the couch to last us a lifetime.” 

Louis does what Harry asks without hesitating, as he does many things for Harry. He sets two places at the table, Harry at the head and Louis in the chair right next to it. “What do you want to drink, love?” Louis calls from the kitchen. 

Harry hums, considering. “Just water’s fine, babe, thanks.” 

When Louis comes in with his beer and Harry’s water, Harry’s already dishing out spoonfuls of macaroni. “Here, bub. Ice cold water for the best dinner-maker I’ve ever known.” 

Harry smiles up at him, settling back in his chair. “Don’t say that until you’ve tried this. Maybe it’s what makes or breaks me as a dinner-maker. Oh, we have drinks with Ni and the guys tomorrow, don’t forget.”

“I hate going out on weeknights,” Louis groans, picking up his fork and digging into the mac and cheese. “Why can’t we just wait until Fridays and Saturdays like normal people?” 

“Because this week, a weeknight is the only one that works. I didn’t realize you’d become such a grumpy old man,” Harry says teasingly. “I think I’m gonna get a haircut tomorrow.” 

Louis nearly chokes on the mouthful of macaroni he has (which is fucking delicious, for what it’s worth). “Haircut like, a trim? Or–”

“I thought I’d just cut it all off. Not  _ all  _ of it, obviously, but I think you know what I mean. I also thought maybe I’d just do it impulsively, surprise you, but I figured you deserved a little time to prepare emotionally.” 

Louis can’t even picture Harry with short hair anymore. But he nods anyway, supports the decision, and lets Harry talk about the account Simon might let him get control over.   
  


Giving Louis a twenty-four hour advance on the haircut really did nothing to prepare him for actually  _ seeing  _ Harry when he unlocks the door and finds Harry in the living room. 

Harry turns around to look at him, smile bright. “Hi, babe. There’s leftovers from last night in the fridge if you’re hungry, but Simon fed us at the office so I’m content.”

Louis drops his keys and his bag, not even feeling hungry, just feeling  _ shock.  _ “Jesus, baby.” 

“D’you like it? I did give you time to prepare mentally, you know.” 

“I know, but  _ still.” _ Louis replies, sitting down on the couch next to him. He’s still gaping? staring intently at Harry’s head. 

Harry starts to look a little nervous then, cuddling up closer to Louis’ side. “D’you really not like it?” 

“Christ, no. I love it. You look beautiful. And, I mean, you always do, but. Yeah. Beautiful.” 

Harry smiles, looking relieved. “I was scared for a moment there, Lou. It’s a big change. Probably the shortest it’s been since we got together.” 

“Yeah it… looks gorgeous.” Louis settles, but there’s more he has to say and Harry  _ knows  _ it, squeezes Louis’ thigh and kisses his shoulder. “You looked like this when I fell in love with you.” 

Harry’s breath catches in his throat, Louis hears it. He presses a kiss to Harry’s temple, now completed unobstructed by hair. “You look like my insanely attractive mate that I always thought about hooking up with. The one whose hand I held whenever we stumbled home drunk and eventually picked up for a first date.” 

“Lou,” Harry breathes softly. “I didn’t know my hair was going to get you all sappy.” 

“Just love you a lot, that’s all. Hair or no hair. Just makes me think back to when…” 

“Everything hadn’t gone to shit?” Harry fills in, voice carrying shards of bitterness that Louis longs to pull out.

“Don’t say that. Makes me think of when we were younger, that’s all.”

Harry nods, pressing a finger under his eye before standing up. “We’ve got to go meet the guys for drinks. Are you wearing that?” 

“Nah. I’ll change, these are my work clothes. I have to put on my casual drinking clothes. You’re sure you’ll… be alright? Out with all of us? In a pub?” 

Harry exhales shakily, but he nods and seems confident. “I think so. I’ll drive. It’s like I’m the designated driver, not just…  _ not _ drinking.” 

An hour later, Louis and Harry are sitting across from each other in a booth with their friends, listening to Niall talk about his latest sex-capade with his girlfriend, sparing no detail. Louis’ actively involved in the conversation, but the toe of his sneaker keeps dragging up Harry’s leg, and that’s enough to check Harry out of the discussion.

Louis is still listening and talking and drinking intently, and Harry doesn’t get how he does it. Harry needs to take notes sometime, so he can finally turn the tables on Louis. But for now, he’ll try to focus on the conversation and his friends even while his insanely fit boyfriend tries to get him riled up. 

Louis gets tipsy, but still complains about how much he hates drinking on weeknights. He, like,  _ really  _ hates it. And Niall's Irish, so alcohol runs through his veins naturally – or so he says – and it really does nothing to him. But drinking on a weeknight feels kind of like a chore to Louis, it’s not fun and it’s just something customary. He could have  _ not _ drank, of course, but then he looks like a bitch in front of Niall. 

“You good?” Harry asks once he’s turned the car off. “Drunk?”

“Not nearly.” Louis replies. “Just, you know, thinking.” 

“Okay… Well, lets get inside. Work tomorrow and all that.” 

********

home - one direction  
**baby, we could be enough**

Louis wakes up early on the morning he has to meet with Brynn’s lawyers. It’s partially nerves and partially excitement, and Louis knows it’s only a matter of time before pure adrenaline takes over and he’s able to do his job flawlessly. He steps out onto the balcony for a smoke, hoping to calm his nerves.

Harry finds him there, about to move onto his second cigarette. Louis puts out the butt of the first one, trying to move the smoke away from Harry. “Sorry.” he says sheepishly. “Left the door open, the smell is probably coming into the flat.” 

“Filthy habit, you know.” Harry tells him, ignoring Louis’ apology. “You should quit.” 

“I’ve tried a dozen times. It never works. You and my mum both always rode me about it,” he says, pulling another out. The wind picks up, and Louis lights his cigarette inside his shirt to avoid it before he looks at Harry again. “You really gonna come to court today?” 

Harry nods eagerly. “Yeah. D’you think you could ever give it up? Something you’re… addicted to.” 

“One day, yeah. Are you alright, love?” 

“I’m fine. Just been thinking, that’s all. I’d like if you stopped smoking. Not, like, right now, but sometime in the future. I don’t want you to get winded playing with our kids and shit like that. Don’t like the idea of anything bad touching you.” 

Suddenly it hurts to look at him; maybe because of the way he’s acting or the fact that Harry brought up their future. Louis’ heart seizes up when Harry mentions kids, of course it does. Thinking about a future with Harry seems fucking massive, unfathomable even now. But he wants it, wants it so fucking badly, Louis would give up smoking in a heartbeat if it meant he got to keep Harry for the rest of time. “Wanna grab a shower together?” Louis asks, standing up, cigarette still in his mouth.

“You just started that one. We can wait.” 

Louis shakes his head, leaving it in the ashtray, and moves for the door. “C’mon, love. We’ve only got so much time if we have a shower  _ and  _ get off.”

“Who said anything about getting off?” Harry laughs. “I haven’t even had any coffee.” 

Louis laughs too, grabbing Harry by the hand and dragging him back through the house to their bathroom. Louis strips Harry slowly, teasingly, until Harry can’t take it anymore (as Louis predicted would happen) and takes matters into his own hands. 

They’re leaving the bathroom twenty minutes later to get ready for work. Louis puts on his nicest suit, his Lawyer in Court Suit, and Harry dresses up as well even though Louis assures him that he doesn’t need to.

As predicted, Harry has to wait outside while Louis and Brynn go in. The meeting is insanely tense, Louis can practically feel the hatred between Brynn and her parents and it reminds him of how much he used to (and sometimes still does) hate his own father. He finds himself swallowing a lump in his throat when it’s finally his turn to talk, but he doesn’t think anybody notices. He’s assertive and firm, assuring Brynn’s parents and their lawyers that Brynn, nor Corden’s Law Offices, have no plans of backing down and they’ll argue in court if need be. The lawyers and her parents don’t like this, it settles a cloud of displeasure over them that Louis can easily pick up on — and this is a good thing. 

“Let’s take a short break, just to reconvene and come back with clear heads,” one of the lawyers suggests, closing his manila folder. 

Louis and Brynn go out into the hallway, where Harry stands up immediately. “You’re done? How’d it go?” 

Louis shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder as the two lawyers come out side by side, talking quietly. “No, not done. Taking a break. They’re a bit rattled, clearly didn’t think Brynn would be this serious about it.” 

“Or that she’d have such a headstrong lawyer on her side.” Brynn chimes in, smile on her face. “We just have to shake them down. I think they’ll back off.”

“I think so, too. As long as they drop the suit, everything will be fine. We’ll deal with any other aftermath either way.” 

The three of them chat for a few more minutes before Louis spots the family lawyers heading back in. “Okay, game time.” he grins, looking at Harry. “Wish us luck.” 

Harry pecks him, a smile of his own emerging. “Good luck, baby. Go get ‘em.” 

Louis kills it. Brynn kills it. They both kill it. They leave the meeting after the lawyers say that the family wishes to reassess the terms and the suit itself, and Louis tucks that under his belt as a win. He and Harry walk out hand in hand, Brynn at their side with a wide smile on her face. They stop at her car first, where she turns around to look at them. 

“Thank you so fucking much, Louis. You have no fucking clue how much this means to me.” 

“Harry’s probably the one that you should be thanking. He’s the one that connected us, after all.” Louis admits, looking over at him. “But I’m really glad I could help, even just a little bit.” 

“A  _ lot _ bit.” Harry says, even though that’s nowhere near proper english, but Louis and Brynn both laugh. They say goodbye, and Louis and Harry walk to their car still hand-in-hand. “You did really, really well.” 

Louis unlocks the door, looking over the top of the car at Harry. “You weren’t even there with us. How d’you know?” 

Harry smiles as he opens his door. “Don’t have to be there with you. Just know it. You always do.” 

Louis pulls up outside of Harry’s job, putting the car in park while Harry gathers everything that he needs. Once he’s got his bag and his phone and his bottle of water, Harry exhales heavily and looks over at Louis. “I love you,” he says, like it carries a lot of weight (and it  _ does, _ always has and always will). __

“I love you, too, H.” Louis replies softly. Louis’ loud, always has been and probably always will be. He grew up in a busy house with a busy mum who had to be loud in order to get shit done, and Louis became the exact same way. He’s loud when he’s talking to people and when he’s watching footie and when he’s fucking around with his siblings and at parties and sometimes he’s loud at work, but with Harry, he finds himself always being soft. He hates yelling at Harry, hates getting in fights because they’re so  _ loud  _ and Louis  _ hates  _ being loud when it comes to Harry. 

He’s soft with Harry, in all the places that matter (but never his cock, of course). Harry makes him feel a way that he never has before, a way that he hadn’t grown up with. When Harry took Louis home for the first time, the scene was wildly different. It was quiet and neat and Anne had dinner on the table every night that they were there.That was something Louis wasn’t used to. It was quiet and peaceful, the way Harry was brought up versus the way Louis was. Harry makes him soft, gentle. He took all of Louis’ hard parts and made them soft. Harry’s big hands came around all Louis’ rough edges and moulded them into something soft and beautiful and vulnerable and Louis’ just always soft with Harry. The  _ I love you’s  _ and the touches and the glances are all soft. He never wants to be hard and loud and stern, never even really feels like he  _ has  _ to be. 

After Harry’s inside, Louis calls James and tells him that he’ll be a little later than he anticipated. He promises that everything is fine, there’s just something that he has to do. He drives to the strip mall that has Harry’s favorite jewelry store and grabs his wallet before walking in. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” the man asks, leaning against the counter across from Louis. 

“I’ve been looking online at your rings and I know you have a gold plated set, I was just wondering if you had it in-store and if I could, like, buy it. Now.”

The man smiles, nods. “I think I know the ones you’re talking about. Give me one moment.” He comes back a few minutes later, holding a box with the two gold bands that Louis saw on the website that caught his eye. “We have a few sizes, I can look and see if I have the ones you need.” 

One of the rings he’s already produced is in Harry’s size, as coincidence (or maybe fate) would have it. Louis walks out fifteen minutes later having paid and with a small bag with the rings in it. He stuffs the bag in the glove compartment before heading into his own building. James is waiting for him in his office. 

“Where’d you have to detour to?” James asks, tossing a baseball (it was a gift from Harry awhile back, a pointless little thing he picked up on a work trip) between both his hands. 

“Honestly, I, uh. I stopped to buy an engagement ring. For H.” Louis says. It’s probably not what James was expecting to hear, and maybe he would’ve been better off lying about his whereabouts so as not to seem irresponsible. But he considers James a friend, despite being his boss, and if he didn’t tell anyone he was going to burst and he has to work out the logistics of this  _ somehow.  _

James’ face lights up, and he looks shocked. Surprised, not angry that Louis was using company time to purchase a major life decision. “Are you shitting me? You’re going to propose?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Well, no, I  _ know  _ so. I just… I can’t wait anymore.” 

“That’s what he wants? You’re both, you know, ready for it?” 

Louis exhales heavily, nodding. “Yeah. I think we’ve both been ready for a long time. I want to… Like, I’m ready to go home and do it  _ tonight,  _ and—” 

James holds up a hand, cutting Louis off. “You’re looking for somebody to convince you not to. I’m not that person, Louis. I’m not going to tell you not to propose to him tonight. Something in you made you go out and buy the rings  _ today  _ and I can’t tell you not to. I’m  _ not _ that person. I’ve known both you and Harry for a long, long time and you’re both set on each other. I’m not the person to tell you not to propose, Louis, because I think you should, I think it’s the right thing to do.” 

So, like any sane person, Louis calls in Zayn to maybe talk him out of getting engaged. Once he’s filled James in on the case and James leaves him be, Louis calls for Zayn. He’s awfully blunt when it comes to giving Louis advice about the dumb things he does or is considering doing. “Proposing? Like, to get  _ married? _ Tonight?” 

“Uh, yeah. Unless… Unless you don’t think it’s a good idea?” Louis asks, looking at Zayn carefully, trying to get a read on him. 

Zayn stares at him for a moment before he laughs out loud. “You really expect me to give you a list of reasons why _not?_ Louis, no one knows Harry better than you do. You two are so _always on the same page_ that it’s maddening for anyone else in a relationship. _You_ know if you’re ready for this. You know if _he’s_ ready for this.” 

“Yeah, okay. Sure. But do  _ you _ think it’s a good idea? I’m not being mad?” 

“Yes, Louis.” Zayn rolls his eyes and stands up, already getting ready to leave. “I think it’s a good idea. And, I don’t know if you’ve given much thought to how you’re going to do it, but I don’t think you need to make it all…  _ dramatic. _ You guys aren’t like that. Just go home, cook him dinner, and pop the question.” 

Louis leaves the office early. He texts Harry that James let him go, and that he’s waiting for him at home. Louis cooks dinner — homemade pizzas, his specialty, thanks to Jay — and has it on the table right when Harry should be walking through the door. Louis puts on Harry’s sappy  _ love songs  _ playlist, the one that plays when they’re doing romantic things like eating dinner at their actual dinner table and painting Harry’s nails and various other simple, cutesy things of that type. 

“Lou,” Harry gasps immediately upon coming into the flat. “I didn’t even know we  _ had  _ candles.” 

“We always do. In the cabinet under the bathroom sink,” Louis states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Take your shoes and coat off and sit down, love. Want water?” 

Harry nods, discarding his shoes and jacket before sitting down in his usual spot at the table. Louis brings them both glasses of water and sits down, feeling out the ring in the front pocket of his jeans. “What’s brought this on? After today, I should be the one cooking you dinner.” 

“Yeah, but also I could cook dinner. I’m invincible after today, baby. Dinner is the least I could do right now.” It really  _ is,  _ dinner is so low on his scale of stressful or major things that it’s astounding. 

They eat in relative silence, just side remarks about how Louis’ cooking has improved or Harry’s day at work. “You didn’t drink.” Harry notes, pushing his plate away and sitting back in his seat. The words barely register in Louis’ mind as  _ Fire and the Flood  _ by Vance Joy is singing through the kitchen speaker and he gets this spark of  _ now now now  _ that ignites his entire body. 

“I, uh. Listen, baby,” Louis says, not really knowing how to get his spiel off the ground but just needing to _do it._ He works his hand into his pocket for the ring. “We’ve been through a lot together recently and I just… I know I wouldn’t have made it through losing my mum without having you by my side. And I want to have you by my side for a long, long time.”

He pulls out the ring and holds it up, effectively pulling the air straight from Harry’s lungs.  _ “Louis.”  _ he murmurs. 

“I could go on for hours about how you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You and everyone else know it. I could sit here while the candles burn out and the stars come out and tell you all about how you’re the reason I wake up in the morning, the reason that I work so hard and  _ love  _ the way that I do. But I won’t, I’ll spare you and I’ll just get right to the point. I want you by my side for whatever life decides to throw at us. So, marry me, Harry Styles.” 

“You really wanna get married?” Harry asks softly. “Even after all the shit I put you through the last few months?” 

_ “Especially  _ after all the shit we went through the last few months. I don’t want to deal with shit like that with anyone but you. Yes or no, baby, do you want to get married?” 

“Yes, I want to get fucking married, holy shit!” Harry exclaims. “I want— I want to be with you forever. I want this.” 

Louis finally slides the ring onto Harry’s finger and it feels a long time coming. It feels like everything he’s ever gone through, before and after meeting Harry, has surmounted to this moment. The moment he says those words, the moment the ring is on Harry’s finger, the moment Harry’s kissing him like there’s no fucking tomorrow. And for awhile Louis didn’t think there would  _ be  _ a tomorrow; not one with Harry, at least, and that really is no tomorrow Louis wants to endure. It’s not one he  _ plans  _ to endure. 

In this moment Louis isn’t worried about coping with the loss of his mum. He isn’t worried about his siblings growing up without her. He isn’t worried about Harry drinking at work. He isn’t worried about losing Harry. He isn’t worried about Harry’s sobriety. In this moment all that matters is Harry,  _ his  _ Harry, and the fact that they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together. Louis doesn’t feel an ounce of stress or worry. All he feels is love and happiness and comfort. He never wants to fucking leave the moment.  
  


In the morning, Louis wakes up to an empty bed. He finds Harry on their small balcony, shirtless, with the grinder and Louis’ pack of cigarettes. “You rolling up the sloppy shit? Like Z tries to rip us off with sometimes?” Louis asks, leaning in the doorway. 

“No, just rolling the stuff from Ni. I smoked one of your cigs, I hope you won’t miss it.” 

“It’s okay. But just because you’re kicking one bad habit doesn’t mean you get to pick up another,” Louis replies. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Just…” Harry trails off, shrugging. He places a newly rolled joint in their little box. “Thinking.” 

He grabs the grinder and another wrap and starts again. It’s effortless for both of them at this point, rolling spliffs, but Louis’ found he particularly likes watching Harry do it. “Thinking? About what, can I ask?” 

“Everything.” Harry says honestly. “I love you a lot, obviously. And for a long time I thought I fucked it all up.” 

“You  _ didn’t,  _ baby. We wouldn’t be here if you’d ruined us. I wouldn’t have  _ proposed  _ to you if I thought you’d ruined us. We talked about this, didn’t we, love?” 

Harry nods, extending the joint to Louis. “Wake and bake?” 

Louis laughs, tries to brush off what Harry’s just admitted to him, but it doesn’t really go away. They smoke up, Harry immediately becoming all cuddly, sleepy kitten after he’s got some pot in his system. They move inside to the couch, where Harry cuddles right up close to Louis. “I know when I say things like that it scares you,” Harry says, like he can read Louis’ mind. “But I feel like you should know where my head is at when it comes to stuff like that.” 

Louis rubs his arm gently, humming. “I don’t like it. It’s scary. But last time we  _ didn’t _ talk about the scary things, we drifted apart and I don’t ever want to get like that again. So we should probably just talk about them, even if they’re scary or cause a little bit of tension.”

“I know you’re right. Even when we’re fucking stoned you’re right and you… you make more sense that I ever do even when I’m sober. I love you, I love being with you, even through the tough shit.” 

Louis smiles down at him, kissing his head. “For awhile, I didn’t know if we’d be okay. I didn’t know if we’d make it through this. But after I walked out of that room in the courthouse yesterday and I dropped you off, I got hit with this wave of something that pushed me. I went to the strip and I bought these rings and I just… I couldn’t wait.” 

Harry sits up abruptly, faster than he usually would when he’s high. Louis knows Harry. He just smoked up with him ten minutes ago, but if Louis wasn’t present for that, Harry’s eyes are the only dead giveaway to the untrained individual. He’s high. And Louis just snapped him out of it with just a sentence. “You just bought this  _ yesterday?  _ After you dropped me off at work?” 

“Uh, yeah. Why, do you think that’s, like, insane or something? Zayn and James both didn’t shoot me down—” 

“Louis! No! I mean, yes, it is insane, but it’s not. It’s so  _ you  _ and so  _ us.  _ I’m surprised but also… not surprised that’s how it went down. I just— wait. Wait right here.” Harry says, using Louis’ shoulder to push himself up. Louis watches him run off into the bedroom. 

He comes back a few minutes later, palm clasped shut around something small. “I’ve had this for  _ months.  _ I’ve had this since you watched that footie match with the guys and Liam was the only fully sober one after it was over. You’d been so excited throughout the whole thing, cursing at every move the other team made, and you were holding my hand for almost the entire time. Even when you jumped up, you always came back down and squeezed my hand again, And you drunkenly promised me that when my team won the Superbowl we’d have a Superbowl baby, but only if when  _ your  _ team won the World Cup we could have a World Cup Baby. And Liam and I left, told you all we were getting more liquor, and we went to the mall and we bought this. They were about to close the shop at that point and they almost didn’t let me in. I was a little drunk and I probably looked and sounded insane. But I bought it,” Harry rambles, finally pausing when he opens his hand and reveals a thin silver band. 

“Harold,” Louis says, starting to laugh. “You were going to propose to me before I proposed to you?” 

_ “Yes!”  _ Harry exclaims, sounding exasperated. “I didn’t know when you’d get your shit together and even though I knew I wanted  _ you _ to ask  _ me, _ I just got this urge and I felt the need to be prepared just in case you didn’t step up soon. And I almost asked you a hundred times — every fancy dinner and late-night gossiping session — but I never did, because I was always a little scared. Then we lost Robin and things, you know, went off course. And I admit, half the time I almost proposed I was drunk. But even when I sobered up, I still wanted to marry you.” 

“You just proposed back.” Louis whispers, disbelieving. “We’re so fucking smacked and you just  _ proposed back to me.”  _

Harry laughs out loud. “Can I put it on your finger? Please,  _ please _ , let me put it on your finger!” 

Louis laughs, nodding and extending his right hand. As soon as he slides it on, Harry kisses him senseless. 

********

the story - brandi carlile   
**_i was made for you_**

Louis lets Harry tell Anne that they’re engaged. It takes quite a while, Louis has plenty of opportunities to blurt it out over the phone — but he doesn’t, knows that this is something Harry should do for himself. When Harry takes a call from his mum later one Friday night, Louis gives him space and leaves the room. Harry comes into the kitchen twenty minutes later and pulls Louis into a tight hug, simply whispers ‘I love you’, then they boot up Netflix to binge the latest season of  _ Queer Eye.  _

Recovery for Harry doesn’t come without a fight. It comes with a lot of late nights and shitty explanations of why he’s not drinking and a few nights where there was some pleaded, ‘if you don’t drink tonight, Lou, that’d really help’. Harry’s sobriety brought some of Louis’ own, as well, which no one ever thought would happen. He tones down his partying and finds himself turning down rowdy nights out in favor of laying in with Harry and discussing anything and everything. 

Another alcoholic drink for Harry comes months later, after they’ve finalized everything for the wedding. He has a beer, just one, and when Louis asks, Harry says he doesn’t feel the need to top it off with another.

It’s a long road, of course it is. But Louis wouldn’t want to face such a tough, long, winding road with anyone  _ but _ Harry. He wouldn’t want the tears and the late nights and skipping out on parties with anyone else. He wouldn’t withstand such a tough time for anyone other than Harry. 

“Hey, Lou?” Harry whispers, late one night. “Are you sleeping?” 

“Not yet. Why?” Louis asks, rolling over to face the man laying next to him. 

Harry rolls onto his side as well, sighing heavily. “I can’t sleep.” 

“Hm. Sorry, bub.” Louis hums, reaching out and rubbing Harry’s arm gently. “We fucked, usually that makes you pretty tired. I could make you a cuppa; for some reason those help you fall asleep, which I still don’t understand.” 

Harry shakes his head. “No, just. Talk to me, maybe?” 

Louis racks his brain, tries to find topics to talk about, but comes up empty. “I’m sorry, baby, but I really… I dunno what to talk to you about.” 

Harry sighs again, leaning forward and kissing Louis gently. “That’s okay. I’ll just listen to you breathe, then. Your heartbeat. Lemme lay on you, please.”

Louis grants him this, of course. Harry sighs deeply, tracing gentle fingertips over Louis’ bicep. “I love this sound,” he whispers, voice gentle and soft. 

“My heart?” 

Harry nods as best he can, dropping a kiss to Louis’ chest. “I love you a lot, you know?” 

“I do know. I love you a lot, too.” Louis replies. 

“You get me better than anyone else does. Like, when I had that asthma attack that day, you knew just what to do, how to talk to me. I’ll never find anyone better than you.” 

“Save it for the vows, baby.” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’ve got plenty more for the vows, you don’t have to worry about that. I think I’m getting tired now. Got any plans for tomorrow?” 

Louis laughs softly at him; Harry always tries to keep the conversation going even when he’s tired out of his mind. “Dunno. Might go buy myself a tux. Someone I know won’t shut up about having a wedding to go to in a few months, so I should really pick something up.” 

“You’d probably look ravishing in those leather pants, maybe you don’t need a tux.” Harry suggests. 

Louis laughs again. “You’re ridiculous. Always looking for ways to jump m’fucking bones.” 

“Sue me. I’m  _ sure _ that’d make a good case.” 

“I’d have to recuse myself. Being head over heels in love with you and all, it’d be an immediate mistrial.” 

“Mhm, I love it when you talk lawyer to me.” Harry hums happily, reaching and pulling the blanket further up over them both. “I love it but you should stop, gonna get me going again and you’ll want to bang it out. But we’ve really got to get to bed.” 

“I’d appreciate it, I think, if you didn’t call our making love  _ banging it out.”  _ Louis laughs, letting Harry bury his face in his neck. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, but stop talking and let me fall asleep, please.” Harry sighs, kissing Louis’ neck. Louis waits for his breathing to even out, but it doesn’t, and just when Louis’ about to say something, Harry whines softly. “Ugh, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong. You know what? I take back what I said about you not talking. I think maybe if you talked it’d help.” 

Louis laughs softly, scratching Harry’s back gently. He starts talking, about anything he can think of, until Harry’s breathing evens and he’s finally asleep. Louis feels his arm falling asleep and tries to ignore it, but evidently can’t. Louis sighs, wiggling his fingers. He carefully works his way out from underneath Harry, standing up and stopping to look at Harry. He’s already rolled into where Louis was laying, pulling the pillow to his chest rather than Louis’ body. He looks young, peaceful, content to finally be asleep. 

Louis sits down again, touching gentle fingertips to Harry’s hair. “I love you so fucking much. Anything you asked me for, I’d give it to you. Anything you wanted or wanted to do, I would do it without thinking. You’ve saved me so many times, you’ll never even know,” he murmurs. Harry stirs, but he doesn’t wake up. 

He lays down next to him again, this time facing Harry. Harry groans softly, his arm reaching around Louis’ waist instead of the pillow. “I love you.” Louis says again, brushing his fingers over Harry’s face now. “Anything we go through, anything that happens, I will always be on your side. Every drink you have, every drink you don’t have, I’ll be there. Getting married is going to be our smallest adventure.” 

Louis falls asleep not long after his declaration, which Harry, coincidentally, happens to wake up shortly after. “I heard every word you said, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you were such a little bitch.” Harry whispers, laughing softly. “And, I love you, too. I hope we never have another situation like the one I put us in, but I am glad to have you on my side.” 

_how can i speak your name without_  
also breathing the words, my god,   
i found you. how can i ever speak again  
with this mouth when it has found where it belongs  
**dear one, mary lambert.**  



End file.
